


La Feuillee

by TheKingParrot



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 34,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKingParrot/pseuds/TheKingParrot
Summary: Claire Beauchamp is a military nurse serving in France during the Great War of 1914-18.  In 1915 she works with Jenny Fraser and meets Jamie Fraser, a meeting which will have a profound impact on her life.2018 is the centenary of the end of the Great War, aka World War I.  Two years ago, I visited Te Papa’s Gallipoli: The Scale of our War exhibition in Wellington, New Zealand.  The exhibition was developed by Te Papa and the men behind The Lord of the Rings film trilogy – Sir Peter Jackson and Sir Richard Taylor.  It was mind blowing.  More recently, I was deeply touched by the work of British artist Guy Denning, who has spent a year designing and producing 112 life size drawings of soldiers who never returned from the Great War to the village of La Feuillee in France.I’ll have a fair bit of research to do for this one, so my postings might not be as frequent as for 'Head of A Woman' and 'A Safe Place', but I hope you’ll find it interesting and worth reading.





	1. The war to end all wars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Benjamin and Sarah Low](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Benjamin+and+Sarah+Low).



 

“The war to end all wars” they said  
And were naively believed  
By those who now are honourably dead  
Never knowing they were deceived  
  
Wars are peddled with promised glory  
With patriotic fervour, wars are sold  
To those who die in warring gory  
Without their right of growing old  
  
For future generations, I’ve great concern  
They needn’t set their world ablaze  
For their survival they must discern  
The peaceful road to better days 

**[Stanley Cooper](https://www.poemhunter.com/stanley-cooper/poems/) **

**August 1915**

Claire Beauchamp had spent time caring for the war’s sick and wounded at several locations and was now in a small village in North West France - La Feuille.  Feuille means ‘leaves’ in English, which was ironic for most of her patients would like nothing more than to leave for home.  Any sense of adventure was now gone.  The call of home was loud.

The Great War had been underway for more than a year.  Britain had mobilised its military forces in August 1914, when Germany declared war on France.  At the time, it was generally believed that the war would be over by Christmas 1914, but the troops had now endured a winter and spring in the trenches. 

The makeshift hospital was on the outskirts of the village but still close to the village square given the size of La Feuillee.  Injured servicemen were bussed in from the Western Front in military trucks, some of them sitting on makeshift benches, some on the floor, and the more seriously wounded on stretchers. The biggest killer on the battlefield was shrapnel. Unlike the wounds inflicted by bullets, a shrapnel blast could rip a face off. 

On arrival, the men were taken from the trucks and laid in rows on stretchers, and in some cases on sheeting on the ground when the supply of stretchers had been exhausted.  Claire’s first impression was that wounds to the face, shoulders and arms appeared to be the most common in this latest group of arrivals from the front.  The trenches provided some protection to the body, but the moment a soldier lifted his head and upper body above the top of the trench he would be exposed to flying fragments of a bomb, shell, or other object thrown out by an explosion, as well as bullets.

Those who had bits of uniform and polluted mud in their wounds were at risk of infection.  It would be another 13 years before penicillin was discovered, and the inadequate disinfectants available had to be used sparingly. Claire had learned some techniques from male nurses who had been to the battle fronts further to the east of Europe, including packing the wounds with iodine or salt and bandaging them.  Again, supplies of these were low, and no one knew when more might be available.

Claire was a member of the Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service (QAIMNS) and had a small number of VADs (members of the Voluntary Aid Detachment) to help her cope with this intake of dozens of wounded and maimed.  She always dreaded her first task when a new intake arrived: sorting out those who stood a chance of survival from those unlikely to survive.

Claire had assigned her team of VADs to identifying each of the patients.  Some patients were able to speak but others could only be identified by their “dog tags”, two pieces of non-corrosive metal hanging around their necks. The nurses wore these too.

She didn’t have to ask where most of the new patients came from – they were in kilts with aprons rather than sporrans.  She had worked with Highland regiments before and found them fiercely loyal, if a little difficult to understand.  They were usually a remarkably cohesive bunch.

The Scottish VADs, Jenny and Mary, would be a huge help with this group. All the servicemen she’d worked with enjoyed the sound of a familiar voice and accent, and the opportunity to talk of home. Louise looked for any French servicemen, as she was born in France and could collect their details and reassure them. 

“I canna believe the condition of some of these men.  They’ve come back looking like bloody ghosts”, Jenny declared with teary eyes.

“Are any of these men from your part of Scotland, do you think?”, Claire asked.

“Aye, I am afeared we will find kin amongst this group”, Mary replied.

Claire gave instructions to the VADs.  "So, identity first and then notes on the nature of the patient's injuries. I’ll take the group on the left, you take the right Jenny, Mary the group on the ground and Louise will be looking for any French who may have mingled with this group. I’ll brief Dr Hunter on any surgical needs once we know what we’re dealing with”.

Claire took her board and note pad and began with the first patient, who had some angry looking wounds on his legs from barbed wire and lacerations on his hands.

“My name is Claire. Your name soldier?”, she asked.

“Angus Mohr, but ye can just call me sexy”, he grinned and winked.

“I can’t see why”, Claire smiled.

The second patient laughed aloud.  “Ah, a lass with a sense of humour.  All is well lads.”

She asked Angus how he got his injuries.  “Dragging that idiot out of trouble when he was hit by shrapnel”, he said pointing to the second patient.

Claire moved on to the second patient: “And you are?”

“Rupert Mackenzie, my dear.  Anything wrong with me can be kissed better”, he replied.

“Well, those shrapnel wounds in your hands, arms and shoulders will need attention and it’s likely that we’ll need to pack them with salt or iodine once any shrapnel is removed”, she told him after taking a close look at his wounds.

She moved on to the third patient.  The man was much taller than the previous two but that wasn’t what caught her breath.  The combination of red hair and gleaming blue eyes looking directly at her made her heart skip a beat.  She looked away, a little embarrassed, and gripped her pencil and note pad tight. 

“And your name please?”, she asked.

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser”, he replied quietly.  “And Jenny over there is my sister.  I dinna want a fuss, ye ken?  She can be a bit loud.”

“Yes, I’ve seen and heard Jenny when someone’s annoyed her”, Claire smiled.  “Now, what’s happened to you James?”

“Call me Jamie please, Sassenach.  I have wounds to both my hands and I’ve a shocking pain in my shoulder”, he said remaining horizontal.

She looked at his open hands. “Ouch.  That shrapnel will need to be removed carefully.  I wish I had some alcohol to put on there”, she frowned.

“Sassenach, dinna tell anyone but I have a wee bit of whisky in a flask in my apron.  I give ye permission to remove the flask as long as ye don’t take advantage of me”, he whispered with a broad smile on his face.

Claire smiled: “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Jamie. If I find any whisky, I suppose that would be a case of finders keepers”.

“Sassenach, you found me and you can keep me for the rest of our lives”, Jamie told her.

“Let’s look at that shoulder”, she said pulling away the dirty piece of blanket over his right arm.  “You must have a high threshold for pain, Jamie.  That’s a nasty looking dislocation.  I’ll need a bit of help putting that back in.”

“Ye can do that, Sassenach?”

“I have done it many times before Jamie, but you’re not going to like me for it”, Claire told him.

“If you can fix that, I’ll owe ye a meal and a drink when this war is over Claire”, he said looking at her with those blue eyes that made her blush.

“I might take you up on that.  Be careful what you wish for”, she smiled.

“I am well aware of what I’m wishing for Claire”.  The momentary eye contact between Jamie and Claire told her that this was not just the normal banter exchanged between a soldier and a nurse, the only woman he may have seen for months.  There was a sincerity and earnestness that she rarely encountered. Was she imagining it?

Claire realised she was spending a disproportionate amount of time with Jamie.  She told him she would check on more of the new arrivals and return to him soon.  In the meantime, she beckoned to Jenny and took her aside.

“Jenny, I want you to remain calm.  Alright?” Claire said quietly.

“Behind me, third from the end, is your brother Jamie”, she held Jenny’s arm as she added “and he doesn’t want a fuss.  I think he’ll be fine, but his right shoulder is dislocated, and he has shrapnel wounds.  Don’t throw your arms around his neck because he’ll be in agony if you do.”

Jenny looked over Claire’s shoulder and spotted Jamie.  She ran over, and he was smiling at her as she declared: “Jamie, Claire says I’m not to hug ye as I will likely hurt you, so I’ll just ask ye – where the hell is Ian Murray?”

“It’s wonderful to see ye too, Janet”, he responded.


	2. When it is peace.  But until peace, the storm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie become closer, despite knowing that war could separate them for an indefinite period of time.

 

Claire knew that preliminary investigations of new patients needed to be completed as a first priority so once these were done, she provided a list of patients with urgent surgical needs to Dr Hunter and his sister Rachel, who assisted him.  Most of those listed were bayonet wounds, and she doubted several of the injured would last until the next morning.

Claire, Jenny, Mary and Louise now had a list of new arrivals and their immediate needs.  Claire began by having Jenny and Mary support Jamie while she realigned his shoulder and manipulated it back into place.

“A dhia!  It doesna hurt any more”, Jamie exclaimed with a look of surprise.

“It will if you don’t take care of it.  I’m going to strap your arm to your body to prevent you from straining it.  You’ll need to keep it that way until I tell you to remove it”, Claire instructed.

“Thank you, Sassenach.  Truly”, Jamie smiled.

“Every one of us here is an outlander, Jamie.  None of us really belong here and all of us wish we were somewhere else, somewhere different”, Claire said wistfully.

He held her arm with the hand that wasn’t strapped in place. “Just for this wee moment in time, I’m glad we’re here or I may not have met ye”.  She felt a twinge in her chest as she looked at this man, with his beautiful eyes and look of sincerity, and wondered how on earth she was going to cope when he returned to the Front.  Of all the hundreds of men she had treated since the beginning of this awful war, this one had won her heart in an instant.  She squeezed his hand: “Snap” she told him.  She wanted to reach down and kiss him, but nurses were subject to strict protocols.  Kissing the patients was very much against the rules.  She smiled, squeezed his hand and moved away.

Claire left Jenny to discover news of Ian Murray, while she and the others used forceps to carefully remove shrapnel from the bodies of many of the soldiers.  The wounds were cleaned and bandaged, and then the forceps cleaned in hot water and the process repeated on dozens of the men. 

Claire was conscious of Jamie’s eyes following her as she moved from one man to another, chatting and treating each of them as she went.  Having discovered the little news Jamie and the others had of Ian, Jenny joined her.

“So, what news of this Ian Murray?” asked Claire.

“Not much, it seems.  He was some distance from Jamie and the rest of our kin in the trenches.  As far as they know, he’s not injured but isna well.  The lads say that everyone is hungry, dirty and lice ridden”, Jenny replied.

“Yes, hunger, dirt and lice will be our next challenges, but we need to deal with these wounds first”, Claire replied.

“Is Ian the man in your life, Jenny?  I haven’t heard you talk of him before.”

“Aye, Ian and I have known one another almost since we were bairns.  We were very close in school but when Ian signed up, I was that angry with him.  He made it sound like he was going on some big adventure but didna seem to consider the possibility that he might be injured or even killed.  Ian is Jamie’s best friend, and I thought Jamie might talk some sense into him, but now practically all of them are hereabouts”, Jenny explained.

“The threat of the white feather has been too much for many men, Jenny.  I know of a man who had three small daughters and poor eyesight, which saved him from conscription, but he signed up when a woman in his street gave him a white feather.  That emblem of cowardice resulted in him being killed less than a month after signing up, leaving a widow with three children she’ll struggle to feed.  Sometimes I wonder”, Claire sighed.

As the evening began to fall, the nurses and volunteers issued meagre rations to the men and placed huge pots of water on gas stoves to make giant pots of tea.

“Ah, bully beef and stale bread.  Just what I was hoping for”, Angus groaned.

“Angus lad, use yer imagination”, Rupert laughed.  “This is no’ yer standard bully beef, this is that French cordon bleu stuff that we came all the way from Scotland for.  Just imagine it’s served with a white sauce and mashed potatoes and it’ll go down a treat.”

“Can we have carrots, broccoli and peas too?”, Angus asked.

“You can have whatever yer imagination allows ye”, Rupert replied.

Claire smiled and sat leaning against a tree to eat hers.  Her body ached from the lifting, leaning, squinting and relentless demands of the day and she was looking forward to a cup of tea, even if it was strong enough to stand a spoon in it.  She leaned back and closed her eyes, opening them when she heard the sound of boots on dried leaves next to her.  Jamie was lowering himself to the ground with some difficulty, given that one arm was strapped to his side.

“You must be exhausted Claire.  What possessed ye to come to France and serve when ye could have enjoyed the _relative_ comforts of home?”, he asked.

“Roughing it is second nature to me really, Jamie.  I camped out with my uncle Lamb at archaeological sites from the time I was about 8.  I’ve been in Greece, Iraq, Syria and Egypt, to name a few.  I’ve had wonderful adventures and I hope to have more. Living like this doesn’t trouble me but seeing endless convoys of pain has been difficult.  But, if we weren’t here to treat people, how many more might die?”.  She looked at him inquiringly, her eyelids heavy.

“Why were ye with yer uncle?  Where were yer parents?”, he asked.

“They both died in an accident and my uncle Lamb effectively adopted me”, she answered.

“I’m sorry I asked”, Jamie apologised placing his hand over hers and leaving it there.

“Don’t apologise.  I’ve learned to live with it”, she replied.

“Claire, can I ask ye something?”, Jamie said with a hint of nervousness.

“Of course.”

“When all this is over, assuming we survive it all, would ye do me the honour of stepping out with me?  Tell me if I’m being too presumptuous”, he said.

“I would like that very much, Jamie.  If I thought you were being too presumptuous, I would have moved my hand several minutes ago”, she laughed.

“I suppose you get a great many admirers, Claire”.

“Not really.  I get a lot of cheeky comments and the occasional rude suggestion, but I disregard them or treat them with the contempt they deserve.  If I didn’t like you, you would know by now”, she laughed.

He leaned across and kissed her cheek.  "I havena been afraid for a verra long time, Sassenach," he whispered. "But now I think I am. For there is something to be lost, now."

“Well, you had better come back to me and fulfil your promise, Jamie Fraser.  Who knows how long this war will last and where we will be when we finally see one another again.”  Regardless of protocol, she leaned across and kissed him back.  Jenny was watching on with a smile and brought them each a tin mug of strong tea.

“There’s precious sugar in both mugs, though I think ye dinna need any more sweetness between ye”, she said and walked away.  They would often go without sugar for months, so it was indeed precious.

Claire and Jamie remained beneath the tree until the light fell further.  As darkness fell, Claire helped Jamie to stand, then he ran his arm around her back and kissed her on the lips.  Protocol was broken, but their promise was sealed.

Before she went to bed, she did a round of the patients and checked dressings, wielded urine bottles, provided drinks of water and the like.  She laid on her stretcher bed and went to sleep almost instantly.  She dreamed of home, a comfortable bed, deep baths of hot water and Jamie Fraser. To be more precise, she dreamed of being in a comfortable bed with Jamie Fraser after they shared a hot bath in their own home.  And she dreamed of adventures with this beautiful Scot.

Jamie took longer to sleep.  His shoulder was still sore, and his hands felt like someone was sticking hot pins in them.  He was reflecting on the first day of his new life: the one in which Claire Beauchamp made her entrance.  There was no doubt that she was beautiful, and that had initially attracted him.  But there was more.  He had met other attractive women, but they often proved to be vacuous and had little interest in the future other than marrying and having children.  He wanted that too, but he wanted more.

Before this war had interrupted his plans, Jamie had wanted to study Classics - the study of classical antiquity, the Greco-Roman world, its languages and literature, philosophy, history, and archaeology.  Somehow, he had sensed that Claire would share these interests and now he had discovered that she had already travelled, experienced some of these archaeological wonders and had adventures with her uncle.  Fate had brought them together, he was sure of it.  Here was a woman who was intelligent, brave, strong and determined to extend her knowledge of the world.  She was also kind, caring and empathetic.  He decided that he had met the woman of his dreams in this small French village in the midst of this bloody war and that he now needed to survive it if he was to spend his life with her.  He experienced elation and dread simultaneously, for there was so much to live for yet so much to lose.

 

**To Germany**

You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed,  
And no man claimed the conquest of your land.  
But gropers both through fields of thought confined  
We stumble and we do not understand.  
You only saw your future bigly planned,  
And we, the tapering paths of our own mind,  
And in each others dearest ways we stand,  
And hiss and hate. And the blind fight the blind.

When it is peace, then we may view again  
With new won eyes each other's truer form  
And wonder. Grown more loving kind and warm  
We'll grasp firm hands and laugh at the old pain,  
When it is peace. But until peace, the storm,  
The darkness and the thunder and the rain.

**Charles Hamilton Sorley**


	3. And still the war goes on; he don't know why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New patients arrive at the hospital camp in La Feuillee, amongst them a close friend of the Scots already in the camp.

 

When morning came, so did the pall of death.  Four of the men brought in the previous day had died overnight.  Dr Denzell Hunter and his sister, Rachel, had thought another two might have expired, but they were still alive - just.  Bayonet wounds were the most difficult.  They may appear small and only bleed a little, but the internal damage could be fatal.  Denzell suspected all four dead had emphysema, a condition in which the air sacs of the lungs are damaged, causing breathlessness and eventually death.  There was little he could do in his makeshift surgery.

Those who had survived their wounds looked on as the four bodies were loaded into an army truck and taken to be buried. 

“There, but for the grace of God, go I” muttered Angus.

“Aye, we survive another day”, added Rupert.

“And the walking wounded will return to the frontline, so the enemy can have another crack at us”, Jamie mused.

One of the main activities, once the bodies had been buried, was “chatting”.  The soldiers called the body lice, their unwelcome visitors, "chats." "Chatting" took place on a regular basis, with men removing their clothes and doing their best to get the lice out of the seams. They either picked them out or ran a flame along the seams. They sat in groups with blankets around their shoulders, removing the “wee beasties” from their clothes and crushing them.

“Have ye noticed that the chats like to get into yer crotch?”, Angus commented.

“Aye, it’s about the only living creature that’s ever been interested in _yer_ crotch”, Jamie laughed.

“Be fair, Jamie.  There’s a fair few rats in those trenches that have ventured up Angus’ kilt”, Rupert said smiling.  Their tales about rats and their methods of disposing them were not for the squeamish.

Claire moved around the groups with NCI (Napthelene, Creosote and Iodoform) powder. “Once we’ve got rid of the chats, some of the locals will give your uniforms a wash and dry them.  It being summer, you should get them back in 24 hours”, she told them.

“And what do we do in the meantime?” one of the men asked.

“Lie out in the sun for a while and pretend you’re on the French Riviera”, Claire told them.

“Will ye strip off and join us, Sassenach?” Jamie asked her with a grin and the most ridiculous attempt at a wink she’d ever seen.

“Being a Sassenach means I have lily white skin that burns way too easily, so I won’t take you up on your kind invitation”, she replied blushing.

“Shame!”, all the men cried. 

“I like my women a nice shade of pink”, Angus piped up.

“Women?  I’d have you know that ‘women’ is the plural of ‘woman’, and I canna recall you even having the one woman turn pink for ye Angus”, Rupert retorted.

The ribbing and laughter continued for hours.  Claire was thinking how remarkable it was that these men - hungry, tired and wounded - could still laugh and tease one another.  “Chatting” was one of their social occasions.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a single military vehicle arriving at the camp.  A driver jumped from the cab and called her over.

“We’ve got a few chaps here with nasty conditions, Nurse.  No bullets, shrapnel or the like but very sick nevertheless”, he told her.

The driver and his assistant lifted the men on stretchers, while Claire, Jenny, Mary and Louise helped those who’d been sitting on benches in the rear of the truck.  Claire was looking at a soldier with a rampant rash on his face, neck and arms when she heard a gasp from Jenny: “Ian, are ye alright?” followed by the sound of crying.

Jamie, Angus, Rupert and others who knew Ian Murray pricked up their ears and stood up from their chatting positions, moving slowly towards the truck.

“Jenny, come away and I’ll take a look at Ian”, Claire said as she wrapped her arm around Jenny’s shoulders.  Jenny was reluctant to leave Ian’s side, but Claire assured her she would assess Ian as quickly as possible and let her know what she had found.

The first thing Claire noticed as she approached Ian was the foul, sweet smell.  It made her shudder for good reason.  Ian was delirious and unable to speak to her, so she went straight to his feet and removed the cover that had been placed over them. Her worst fears were looking at her.  She had no doubt that Ian had trench foot.  The smell almost certainly meant that he had gangrene in at least one foot.  The infection could spread quickly and may be fatal. She looked up to see Rachel Hunter looking down at Ian’s feet.

“Trench foot?”, Claire said looking at Rachael.  Rachael nodded in agreement.

“Looks like gangrene in the left foot too”, Rachael confirmed.  “Let’s get him into the surgery and I’ll get Denzell to have a look immediately.  Time is of the essence.”

As Ian’s stretcher was lifted and he was carried towards the surgery, Claire turned towards Jenny.  She was holding Jamie’s arm tightly and the look of fear on her face brought tears to Claire’s eyes.  Jamie guided Jenny to Claire’s side.

“Well?  Is it bad?”, Jenny cried.

“It’s certainly not looking good.  Ian has trench foot Jenny, and there’s a chance that one of his feet has gangrene.  Denzell is going to assess him and let us know”, Claire said holding Jenny’s hand and stroking it.

“Will he … could he lose the foot, Claire?”, Jamie asked quietly.

“It’s possible”, she replied.  “Better the foot than his life.”

“I think Ian might disagree with ye, Claire”, Jamie said looking downcast and holding Jenny firmly. 

“I’m so sorry.  I must attend to the other men who’ve been brought in.  Jenny, stay with Jamie.  I can do this with Mary and Louise.  We should get word about Ian quickly.  You know Denzell will do everything he can, Jenny”, Claire reassured her.

As Claire turned to walk away, she knew that any words of reassurance were largely for effect.  If she and Rachel were correct, Ian could lose the leg and, depending on how advanced the gangrene was, possibly his life.  She swallowed hard and walked towards the collection of sick and injured that still needed to be assessed.  She was reminded of the last verse of a poem written by Siegfried Sassoon, and sent to her by her uncle Lamb:

 _And then he thought: to-morrow night we trudge_  
Up to the trenches, and my boots are rotten.   
Five miles of stodgy clay and freezing sludge,   
And everything but wretchedness forgotten.   
To-night he's in the pink; but soon he'll die.   
And still the war goes on; he don't know why.

_(From: In the Pink)_

She found it difficult to assess the other soldiers through the tears that formed.  She kept reminding herself that they were all someone’s son, husband, brother, father, sweetheart, uncle, cousin or friend.  In some ways, Ian was fortunate in that he had people who loved him nearby, while some of these men were amongst strangers.  A stranger she may be, but she owed these men whatever help and encouragement she could provide, even though she would just like to sink into Jamie’s arms and weep.

Claire, Mary and Louise had almost finished identifying each of the new patients, and detailing Claire’s initial assessments, when Denzell appeared from the hospital tent.  He walked directly to Claire.

“Good news and bad, Claire”, he told her.

“Please give me the good news first, Denzell”, Claire asked.

“I’m reasonably confident we can save one of Ian’s feet, but the other one will have to be amputated.  I can’t be sure, but I think we might need to take that leg up to the knee.  I need to make a deeper incision to be sure.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to help with the surgery, Claire. Rachel is giving him some morphine and atropine now, so we’ve got about 30 minutes”, he said in an apologetic tone.

“I understand.  Unfortunately, I must tell you that we have several more cases of trench foot amongst the other new patients.  I haven’t detected any obvious signs of gangrene in any of them. I know it’s supposed to be more common in winter and I can only assume it’s due to heavy spring rains”, Claire explained.

“Most likely that and poor drainage.  We need to talk to the other lads before they return to the trenches to avoid more cases.  Meanwhile, I’ll have a quick look at the other cases while you scrub up, Claire. I hope they’re not as advanced as Ian”.  With that, Denzell walked away, leaving Claire to face Jenny.

Jenny had seen Denzell walking out of the tent and was looking anxiously in Claire’s direction.  Claire repeated the news to Jenny, who was inconsolable.

“Please stay with Jenny, Jamie.  I must help Denzell and Rachel with the surgery in about 20 minutes and I need to clean up ready.  Thank goodness you’re here to help her and be with Ian when this is done”, Claire tried to smile but found it all too difficult.  “I have to go.”

The surgery went quite well, although Ian’s leg had to be amputated just below the knee.  Denzell confirmed that Ian must have been in immense pain for some time but, like others he had seen, was terrified to speak of it due to the fear of amputation.  The delay had made amputation inevitable.  Ian was, in some ways, fortunate that he did not lose both feet.  Denzell had cleared as much dead tissue from his other foot as was possible to reduce the risk of infection.

Denzell, Rachel and Claire knew that Ian would continue to be in considerable pain and would probably need further surgery once back home to reduce pain and prepare him for an artificial limb.  He would be likely to experience pain in the “phantom limb” and the stump for some time.  The surgery performed at La Feuillee would just be the beginning of a long and painful process, assuming he did survive.  Ian’s life would never be the same.


	4. Dreamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange and stressful times can result in what might be considered unusual behaviours. In 1916, Clara E.D Moleyns wrote in the Woman’s World section of the Western Daily Press that the morale of the men in the trenches was being sustained by the “dreams of love”. She defended “hasty war weddings” from criticisms, adding that it was not anybody’s place to decide if they were right or wise because of the “abnormal times”.

 

Ian made it through the night, indicating that his chances of survival were reasonable.  The risk of infection remained high though, and Denzell spoke to Claire and Rachel about arranging evacuation for him and several other patients.  If the evacuation group was large enough, it may be possible to justify sending a VAD with them to Roscoff, on the coast of France, where they would be shipped back to Britain.  Claire immediately suggested that Jenny be considered for the trip, knowing that remaining in France would be difficult for her when her mind would be on Ian.

While Denzell arranged for a telegram to be sent with a request for evacuation, Claire sat with Jenny and Jamie and discussed the situation.

“Jenny, you know I will miss you like a sister, but Ian must be evacuated and when he leaves your heart will be not be in the work here.  How do you feel about going with him and the other evacuees?”, Claire asked.

“I feel guilty that I’ll be leaving ye with so much work, but I ken ye’re right Claire.   The Murrays will be out of their minds with worry and Ian will be needing a lot of care”.  Jenny’s thoughts continued to be aired.  There was no doubt in her mind that she needed to be with Ian and that the other evacuees needed someone to help them on the trip home.  She only had a few things to be organised, but Claire suggested she get everything together as the group would need to be ready to leave as soon as transport arrived.  There was no knowing when that might be.  Jenny headed to her tent to begin organising herself.

Jamie stood behind Claire, his free hand on her shoulder, watching as Jenny hurried off to her tent looking tired and wan.

“I’m going to miss her so much, Jamie”, Claire sniffed.

“Aye, she can be difficult at times, but she’s a heart of gold.  Ye certainly want her on yer side when the chips are down”, Jamie replied.

“It’s not just Jenny though.  Soon you’ll be gone too, and the job will become even harder”.  As Claire spoke, Jamie turned her to face him and said: “Claire, when ye sit down for yer meal later, I’d like to talk to ye.  I’ve been thinking on it all day.”

Claire looked puzzled.  “Of course, Jamie.  Just the two of us?”, she asked.

“Aye.  It’s a matter between ye and me”, he smiled.

With Denzell and Rachel preparing the evacuees, briefing Jenny and doing the paperwork required, an even greater workload fell upon Claire, Mary and Louise.  Claire had Mary and Louise preparing whale oil for those who would return to the trenches, to be rubbed on their feet and calves to protect against trench foot.  Meanwhile, she was checking wound dressings and for signs of infection.

A warm stew was available for the patients in the evening and the soldiers tucked in, scraping their bowls clean with chunks of bread.  Claire finally slumped beneath the tree with her own meal, exhausted.  Jamie brought two mugs of tea, one for him and one for Claire, and sat on the ground beside her.

“Ye look exhausted, Sassenach.  Do ye mind if I speak my mind while ye eat?”, Jamie asked.

“Sounds good” she said, tucking in.

“Claire, I’ve been thinking about after the war.  I know many of us might not make it, but I need to believe we will because it gives me something to hope for.  Agreed?”

“Totally”, Claire said whilst tucking in.  “Sorry to talk with my mouth full, but I’m starving”.

“I’ve already asked ye if ye would step out with me if we both survive, and ye said ye would like that.”  Jamie looked to Claire for confirmation, and she smiled and nodded as she ate.  “Sassenach, do you know anything about handfasting?”, Jamie looked at her inquiringly as he asked.

“It’s a Celtic tradition isn’t it?  Sort of getting married, but not actually married, if that makes sense”.

“Aye, like getting engaged.  It’s a form of promise, a commitment”, Jamie clarified.

“I see.  Are you thinking of Jenny and Ian, Jamie?”, Claire said placing her empty bowl on the ground.

“No Claire.  I’m thinking of us, you and me”, Jamie answered.

Claire looked at him, surprised but smiling: “Really?  You really want us to get kind of engaged after a few days?  Are you sure?”

Jamie looked deflated.  “So, you dinna think it’s a good idea?”  He sounded disappointed.

She placed her hand over his, reached over to kiss his cheek and whispered in his ear: “I’d love to.  How, when?  Do I have time for my cup of tea?”

A broad smile washed over Jamie’s face.  “Tomorrow, so drink yer tea”.

Despite being exhausted, Claire laughed.  “You are a man of action, James Alexander Thingy Thingy Fraser.  Goodness, I can’t even remember your full name and we’re talking of being promised to one another!”

“James Alexander _Malcolm Mackenzie_ Fraser, Sassenach.  I don’t know your full name either”, Jamie laughed.

“Claire _Elizabeth_ Beauchamp.  Simpler than your moniker, Fraser.”

“There are no promises for our tomorrow, Sassenach.  I don’t want to wait. We must live as if each day were our last and, on this day, I want nothing more than to pledge my troth to ye”, he said definitely. Claire looked at him lovingly.

“You’re right, of course.  Something to believe in. Hope is what drives us. Hope gets you out of bed. The Greek word for "hope" is elpo, meaning "to look forward to with pleasure”. Elpis was the personification of hope. She was the last spirit to remain in the jar after Pandora unleashed the evils that were in it. Jamie, I look forward to being with you with pleasure.”  She reached over and said quietly in his ear: “When we are really married, I look forward with pleasure to making love to you, Jamie. I’ve never said that to anyone before”.  She sat back to watch his reaction.

Claire wasn’t sure if Jamie was blushing with embarrassment or lust, but she laughed regardless as he looked at her with a broad grin and a red face.

“That’s the best thing I can think of”, he finally replied.

 They sat together in a contented silence for some time, her hand over his, as the sun set.

 “What did ye like about Greece, Claire?”, Jamie asked.

 “The sunsets.  I’ve never seen any sunset to compare.  It’s said that the Hesperides are the nymphs of evening and golden light of sunsets, and that in the garden of the Hesperides the apples were made of gold.  The nymphs guard the golden apples with the aid of a dragon with a hundred heads.  The consumption of a golden apple from this special orchard results in immortality.  The sunsets really are a glowing gold, like the apples. In Greece all those myths somehow seem possible.”

 “Maybe we’ll sit together and watch the sunset in Greece when this war is over”, Jamie said.

“I hope so.  I’d like to make love to you on the beach of a Greek island, maybe Crete, as the sun sets”, she replied.

“Why Crete?”, Jamie asked.

“The birthplace of Zeus.  King of the Gods.”

As she said it, Claire looked over at Jamie, who had a faraway look on his face.  “Are you alright Jamie?”, she asked.

“I’m trying to imagine what that would be like, Claire.  I think my heart might burst, either that or a certain part of my anatomy.”  It was Claire’s turn to blush.

Claire and Jamie parted with a kiss, going to their respective areas of the camp.  She looked for Jenny and found her slumped in a camp chair, her head on the stretcher next to Ian.  She was fast asleep.

Before she went to bed, Claire talked to Mary and Louise about handfasting.  Mary told her a little more about the history of the Celtic tradition, in which a handfasting was once a marriage but now a commitment ceremony. Louise looked at them both and reflected on the changes that occurred in a war: “If you had told me you were considering this in an everyday situation, I’d express my concern, Claire.  But these are not ordinary times.  In war we must live as if we may not see tomorrow, next week or next month.  We must do what we need to give us courage.  I think the commitment you and Jamie are making is wonderful, Claire.  I think it will give everyone in the camp a sense of joy and we are all sorely in need of that.  Bonne chance, chérie.”

Mary and Louise went for a brief walk before it became too dark, while Claire reflected on the unexpected changes in her life.  She was soon asleep.

The next morning, Denzell approached Claire as she was helping to prepare breakfast for the camp.  As her commanding officer, he generally briefed her on what needed to be done each morning. Today was a little different.

“Claire, Mary and Louise visited me last night.  Mary filled me in on “handfasting” and told me that you and Jamie were planning to have a ceremony today.  I just want to say I agree with Louise.  During times of war, we must cast aside some of our concerns and express our love for those who matter to us”, Denzell told her.

“Thank you, Denzell.  I did wonder about the holding of hands and kissing.  I don’t want to place you in a difficult situation if anyone complains”, Claire told him.

“Well, Claire.  If you wear plain clothes you won’t be on duty, and if I don’t wear my spectacles, I can plead ignorance”, he smiled.  “Let’s make it a happy day, we are overdue for one of those.  Rachel and I will stay in the camp with the seriously wounded and those unable to walk.  We want you to enjoy your moment.  Just for a short time we can all be dreamers.”

 

_Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land,_

_Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows._

_In the great hour of destiny they stand,_

_Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows._

_Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win_

_Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives._

_Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin_

_They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives._

_I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,_

_And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,_

_Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,_

_And mocked by hopeless longing to regain_

_Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,_

_And going to the office in the train._

_“Dreamers”, Siegfried Sassoon_


	5. With only a look you brought me life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration brings a rare sense of happiness to a war-torn community.

 

As breakfast was being distributed to everyone in the camp, Jenny found Claire.  It seemed Jamie had already spoken to his sister.

“Is it true, Claire?  You and Jamie are to have a handfasting ceremony today?”, Jenny asked.  She was looking concerned rather than happy, which made Claire feel a little uneasy.

“Yes, we want to be committed to one another Jenny.  I know that might come as a shock, as we’ve only known one another for days, but we both believe in what we are doing.  We want to share our feelings and hope.  Are you happy about it, Jenny?”  Claire wanted an honest answer from Jenny.  She had known Jenny long enough to know that she was unlikely to get anything else.

“I dinna ken.  Jamie’s been out with a girl before, but no’ much.  I’m a bit shocked, but I’m no’ unhappy about it.  I just hope ye want to live in Scotland, for I canna imagine Jamie living anywhere else.  I think Da and Ma will be surprised, for sure”, Jenny told her.

“Jenny, I’ve been a wanderer for much of my life, moving from place to place with my uncle.  I call England home but really, it’s just been a base for our travels.  If Jamie wants me to move to Scotland, then I will happily do that”, Claire smiled.  “We’ve got to survive this war first though.  How is Ian this morning?”

“He’s doing his best to be brave, but I ken he’s in a lot of pain.  He’s no’ happy about having to have an artificial leg either, so I ken we’re in for a lot of cussing and grumbling”.  Jenny tried to look cheerful as she talked, but it was clear to Claire that she was exhausted and worried.

When all the breakfast dishes were collected and washed, Louise called Claire over to the tents where the nurses slept.  With her were a few local ladies who were carrying a box.

“Claire, ma chérie, come here”, Louise called beckoning her over.  Louise spoke to the French women, who smiled and offered Claire the box.  “Open it, Claire”, Louise told her.  Claire placed the box on a bench and unpacked a beautiful dress, carefully packed in tissue paper.  She held the dress up in front of her and the rest of the women were delighted to see it was the right length.

As Claire admired the dress, Louise continued: “I spoke to some of the people of La Feuillee about your handfasting ceremony.  They would like to congratulate you.  Michelle has offered to lend you this dress to wear.  They told me that the people of La Feuillee would like you to share your joy with them, as special days are few and far between now.”  Louise went on to act as translator for Claire, who expressed her gratitude to Michelle and her friend.  Claire told them she was honoured to bring a little joy to their lives and would love to share the ceremony with them.  She told them she needed to do her rounds and would then talk to Jamie.  She returned the precious dress to its box and headed into the camp.

First on her list of patients was Jamie, to free his arm of its bonds and to tell him of the villagers’ kindness.

“Michelle has lent me this beautiful dress, Jamie.  A far cry from my nurse’s uniform.  Are you happy to share the ceremony with the villagers?”, she asked as she gently massaged his arm and shoulder.

“Aye, anything that brings happiness to the soldiers and the villagers must be good, Sassenach.  I’ve plenty of happiness to share”, he smiled as he took her hand.  “Mary, Rupert and Angus have put together some ideas from their memories of the ceremonies they’ve been to.  It’ll be a braw day.”

“Jamie, I’m not sure Jenny approves of our handfasting.  At best, she seems unsure”, Claire told him.

“Aye, Jenny is tired and worried, certainly no’ at her best right now.  Dinna worry too much – it’s more to do with Ian than with ye, Claire”, Jamie replied.  “We’ll have the ceremony in the village in the afternoon.  I canna wait.”

Claire completed her rounds of the sick and wounded and checked to see if Denzell and Rachel needed any help in the surgery.

“You’ve earned a bit of a break, Claire”, Denzell told her.  “Get yourself ready for your special day.  We can manage, assuming we don’t get a sudden influx of new patients”.  Denzell was right.  They never knew when injured and sick might arrive, or the condition they might be in.

While she was working, Claire wore her hair up in a chignon, largely for health reasons.  She decided she would wear it loose.  She had a pair of sandals she could wear with the borrowed dress.  As she readied herself, Mary and Louise checked on her. They brought a posy of flowers, provided by a gardener in the village, and ribbons donated from the sewing baskets of local seamstresses.

“This is so generous”, Claire said.

“Some moments of happiness are much needed in the midst of this war”, Louise smiled.  “Five minutes and we walk to the village square.  People are gathering ready.”

While Claire finished preparing herself, Jamie, Rupert, Angus and the soldiers able to walk were making their way to the village square, Jamie’s red head bobbing above the rest of the group.  Jamie was overcome to see the population of the small village standing in a circle around the village square waiting for the ceremony.  The soldiers stood amongst them, language providing no barrier to their shared enthusiasm.  When Claire arrived with Jenny, Mary and Louise there were cheers from the crowd. 

Jamie was clearly emotional at the sight of Claire, looking utterly beautiful in the borrowed dress and beaming with happiness at the sight of him in his kilt, which had been cleaned and brushed by a few of the villagers at the request of Louise.  He had borrowed a clean white shirt and a jacket and was flanked by the scrubbed-up Rupert and Angus.

Throughout the ceremony, Jamie and Claire had eyes only for one another.  Jenny and Mary arranged the infinity knot around their wrists, while they exchanged their vows.

_Jamie:_

_You touched my hand and reached my thoughts,_  
You kissed my lips and reached my heart,  
You looked into my eyes and touched my soul.  
No words were said, no thoughts exchanged.  
Through only a touch you changed me,  
With only a kiss you moved me,  
With only a look you brought me life.

_Claire:_

_Upon this day, our hands we bind,_  
A symbol of our hearts entwined.  
To witness this, we ask of thee,  
Our union forever blessed be.

 _Across the years I will walk with you_  
in deep green forests; on shores of sand.  
And when our time on earth is through,  
in heaven, too, you will have my hand.

_Jamie and Claire:_

_Here's my love, take it. Here's my soul, use it. Here's my heart, don't break it. Here's my hand, hold it and together we will make it forever._

_Rupert:_

_It is your life, your love and the eternal connection that the two of you have found with one another. The ties of this handfasting are not formed by these ribbons or even by the knots connecting them. They are formed instead by your vows, by your pledge, your souls and your two hearts, now bound together as one._

Claire would later describe the feeling of “suspended animation” she experienced, while Jamie called his feelings “dreamlike”.

When the ceremony came to an end, the villagers moved closer to the couple and threw the flower petals they had brought with them.  The soldiers, led by Angus, sang _The Lord is My Shepherd_ in English, while the villagers sang in French.

Jenny, who had initially been uncertain about the handfasting, held Claire and Jamie.  “If yer relationship is as beautiful as that ceremony ye will be two of the happiest people I know”, she told them.  “I hope Ian can live to see our weddings”, she said tearfully. 

 

 


	6. I and my man were happy together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time comes for Claire and Jamie to part as World War 1 continues unabated.
> 
> Special thanks to MBloveshistory (a reader) for suggesting the work of Ewart Alan Mackintosh. I waded through some of his works and found the poem below to be well suited to this chapter.

 

The following day, transport arrived to take Ian, Jenny and the other evacuees to Roscoff, where they would be shipped back to Britain.  There were mixed emotions amongst those staying and those going.  On one hand, Jenny felt relief that she was getting Ian away but on the other, she felt guilt at leaving family and friends in France amidst the perils of war.  Ian was in too much discomfort to say much, but bade a tearful farewell to Jamie, Rupert and Angus as his stretcher was lifted into the ambulance.

Claire was doing her utmost to hide the feeling of anxiety she carried with her constantly.  She knew that Jamie would have to leave, she just didn’t know when.  That evening, after those in the camp had been fed and watered, she and Jamie went for a walk around La Feuillee.  They would stop frequently, kissing and embracing.  Some of the kisses would become heated and they would separate with difficulty as other pedestrians approached.

As they returned to the camp hand in hand, they both detected a change in atmosphere.  The Scots were quieter, their shoulders drooped and their eyes downcast.  Rupert saw Jamie and Claire approaching and stood:

“Word has just come through.  We return to the Front tomorrow.  We must pack tonight and be ready to leave early”, he told them.

Claire felt tears welling in her eyes: “But the men aren’t ready.  Their wounds need longer to heal, the risk of infection is still considerable and …”

Jamie interjected.  “It was only a question of time, Sassenach.  There are a million reasons why we shouldna return, but the military have no wish to hear them.”  He squeezed her hand and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his other hand.  “We must hope it’s over soon, and until then we will write.”

Claire was unable to contain her heartache.  She ran to her tent and lay face down on the stretcher bed, sobbing.  Before meeting Jamie, she had been able to put on a brave front as soldiers came and went but now it was all deeply personal.  After some time, she sat up on her bed and gave herself a good talking to.  Jamie would be gone tomorrow, she thought, so she must make the best of the little time they had left.  She washed her face, brushed and tidied her hair, swallowed hard and walked slowly from her tent.  Jamie was sitting on the ground a few yards from her tent, his head in his hands.  She sat down next to him and held his arm.  They remained like that until it was dark, barely able to speak.  Jamie eventually handed her a slip of paper.  Written on it was:

_Lallybroch,_

_Near Broch Mordha_

 

“If ye dinna hear from me for a long while, write to my family at this address”, he said quietly.

Claire nodded, but was unable to speak.  She kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand to acknowledge that she understood.  They fell asleep together.

After an early breakfast the following morning, Mary and Louise distributed containers of whale oil to each of the men to protect them from trench foot.  The soldiers gathered up their packs, rifles, bayonets, wire cutters, helmets and ammo.  Some of the men, including Jamie, were issued with grenades.  Denzell ensured each of the men had a gas mask and knew how to use it.

It was difficult for any of the medical staff to make eye contact with the soldiers.  They all knew this could be the last time they saw one another.  Just 24 hours ago they had been celebrating together, but today brought sorrow.  For Jamie and Claire, it was beyond heartbreaking.  Claire felt a pain in her chest, her breathing was shallow, her muscles ached with the tension, and she was fighting back tears (unsuccessfully).  Whenever she briefly glanced at Jamie, she could see that he was experiencing the same sensation of dread.

When the order was given to form ranks, Claire gasped audibly.  This was it.  Jamie faced away from her and she could see his shoulders heave.  Louise’s arm slipped round the small of her back, while Mary took her hand from the other side of her body.  When the order to march was given, Claire had to be held up by the two women as she dissolved into tears.  Jamie glanced back, and she could see the tears washing his face.  Rupert held his shoulder and carried him along, Angus walking behind.

Claire and her friends watched until the Scots were out of sight.  Denzell approached them and hugged Claire:

“It’s going to be hard, but now we must prepare for the next intake of sick and wounded.  There is cleaning to be done, there is bedding to be washed and we need to replenish our work benches.  Let’s keep busy, everyone.”

With one less VAD since Jenny left, the workload was considerable.  Claire switched into automatic mode and performed the routine duties without comment, her mind drifting somewhere in the ether.  The others left her to her own devices, only interrupting to offer a little food and tea.

As the afternoon came, Claire continued in her automaton mode until Rachel tapped her on the shoulder:

“We’ve just seen two ambulances approaching, Claire.  Not quite sure what to expect as one of them doesn’t look like the standard British design.  Can you get Mary and Louise ready to do identity checks?  Denzell and I are just organising the operating area for any emergencies.”

Rachel paused for a moment, then lent forward and kissed Claire on the cheek: “You’re amazing Claire.  We’re very lucky to have you here.”  Rachel smiled and was gone.

Claire wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, took a deep breath and prepared herself for a new intake. 

When the ambulances pulled up, they could see one was a British standard and the other was American.  This was unusual.  The driver of the British ambulance jumped from his vehicle and greeted Claire.  He was clearly a Londoner:

“The bloke wot’s driving that Yank tank is a bleedin’ hero, Miss.  He’s got some Yanks and some Brits in there and none of ‘em would be alive if it weren’t for ‘im.  Bloody salt of the earth, he is.”

Claire managed a slight smile and remembered that each of these men would be a Jamie to someone.  She kissed her hand and blew a kiss in the air for Jamie.

“Let’s get on with it, Beauchamp”, she muttered.

 

 _Out on the hillside the wild birds crying,_  
A little low wind and the white clouds flying,  
A little low wind from the southward blowing.  
What should I know of its coming and going ?  
  
Over the battle the shrapnel crying  
A tune of lament for the dead and the dying,  
And a little low wind that is moaning and weeping  
For the mouths that are cold and the brave hearts sleeping.  
  
I and my man were happy together  
In the summer days and the warm June weather —  
What is the end of our laughter and singing ?  
A little low wind from the southward winging.  
  
The hearth is cold and my house is lonely,  
And nothing for me but waiting only,  
Feet round the house that come into it never,  
And a voice in the wind that is silent for ever. 

 

  
**The Waiting Wife - Ewart Alan Mackintosh**  
Lieutenant Ewart Alan Mackintosh MC (4 March 1893 – 23 November 1917) was a war poet and an officer in the Seaforth Highlanders from December 1914.  
(with special thanks to MBloveshistory, a reader)

 


	7. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to a reader, JudyC1955, for the reminder that ambulance drivers, or wagoners, contributed so much to this war. I have taken poetic licence to incorporate them into this chapter. 
> 
> The Distinguished Service Cross was presented to Harry E. Roach, Wagoner, U.S. Army, for extraordinary heroism. Because of the destruction from shell fire of ten of the 13 ambulances of his company, Wagoner Roach worked for 48 hours driving through a shell-swept and gas-infested area, thereby making possible the evacuation of the wounded. Harry was a wagoner with the 110th Ambulance Company from Philadelphia, PA. (That’s as close as I could get to your grandfather, JudyC!) He is circled in the collage.

 

The driver from London, Ernie, helped the American wagoner, Harry, from his ambulance.  The American was clearly suffering from exhaustion, practically collapsing as he left the cab.  Claire showed Ernie where the giant pots of tea were and asked if he could pour one for Harry while she did a first assessment of the sick and wounded.

Claire, Mary and Louise soon discovered most of the soldiers were victims of gas.  Claire had seen men suffering from the effects of chemical xylyl bromide, an early form of tear gas, months before but this appeared to be much worse.  Ernie told her that the word at the front was that the Germans were using chlorine gas from pressurised cylinders and thousands of troops were smothered in a ghostly green cloud of chlorine. Those who had no mask protection often died from the agonies of suffocation.  The gassed men who had been brought in had used masks but still had their eyes covered as they were painful, and their sight still affected.  The look of fear was still evident on their contorted faces.

“You got no idea Miss”, Ernie told her.  “When the blokes hear the gas gong, they get their masks on as quick as possible, but some of them ‘ave already breathed some of it in and then their mates try to ‘elp ‘em.  It’s barbaric.  Harry was collecting up anyone he could find who was blinded by that crap and getting them to ‘old the shoulder of the man in front, then he led ‘em to his wagon.  He didn’t care if they were Brits or Yanks, he said they were all good men.  We ended up working together ‘cos I was worried he might be overcome by the gas or exhaustion.  He went for 48 hours without any rest.”

“A gas gong?”.  Claire looked puzzled.

”Gongs and bells are positioned along the front lines so that sentries can raise the alarm in the event of a gas attack”, Harry told her.  “Which is fine if the sentry is on the ball and the troops can hear the alarm.  If their eyes are affected by the gas, they stagger around in the hope someone will help them.”

Claire asked Louise and Mary to go through the identity process while she scrounged some food for Harry and Ernie.  “You are both heroes.  None of these men would have survived without your bravery.  Here’s some stew.  I’m afraid the bread is a bit stale, but if you dip it in the stew it should taste alright.  Have a rest while we identify and assess these men – and God bless both of you.” 

Claire told Denzell what Ernie had told her.  “Chlorine gas reacts quickly with water in the airways to form hydrochloric acid, swelling and blocking lung tissue, and causing suffocation”, Denzell explained.  “Warfare has taken on a whole new savagery, I’m afraid. It’s just not cricket.”

A British soldier gave Claire and Denzell a first-hand account of his initial encounter with chlorine gas:

 

> _I watched figures running wildly in confusion over the fields. Greenish-grey clouds swept down upon them, turning yellow as they travelled over the country blasting everything they touched and shrivelling up the vegetation. . . . Then there staggered into our midst French soldiers, blinded, coughing, chests heaving, faces an ugly purple colour, lips speechless with agony, and behind them in the gas-soaked trenches, we learned that they had left hundreds of dead and dying comrades. **[1]**_

As they worked through the men, detailing the ID from their tags and assessing their injuries, the soldiers told them of the flamethrowers that had appeared on the Western front, and the machine guns honed to new levels of murderous perfection. Still, the biggest killer of all was artillery.  Each description made Claire fear more for Jamie and his friends.  It was emotionally as well as physically draining.  She made a mental note to thank Denzell for distributing the gas masks _and_ making sure the men knew how to use them before they left.

Claire and the rest of the team were able to treat the few soldiers with injuries ranging from shrapnel and shot wounds to trench foot.  Only supportive care and treatment of chlorine gas symptoms – supporting breathing, clearing affected areas – was possible.  For a few gassed men, death was agonisingly slow, but the majority of those in the camp survived.  What became apparent was the psychological impact of the gas on those at the Front.  The fear of being rendered blind or unable to breathe, or both, was a powerful weapon.

Some of those temporarily blinded were soothed by the voices of the nurses treating them.  That evening, whilst eating their evening meal, they compared notes: Louise and Mary had each had two proposals, and Claire and Rachel three.  They laughed that once these soldiers could see them, they might withdraw the offer. However, in all seriousness, they were painfully aware of the dependence relationship which had developed between the men at the front.  The gas underlined the need for mateship and the role of the drivers and wagoners in getting those affected out of the line of fire.

That night, when the soldiers were fed, and their immediate needs met, Claire began her first letter to Jamie. She missed sharing her evening meal with him and their talks of what they hoped for after the war. She wanted to make the tone of her correspondence positive, but it was proving tough.  She focussed on how much she missed being able to touch and kiss him and reminded him of what she hoped for when they were together again.  She shared a few snippets of good news she had heard via French communication lines (translated by Louise).  She had very little lipstick, but she used a little to coat her lips and leave an impression of them on the paper.

As Claire was writing, Jamie was lying in a field propped up by his backpack.  He had eaten survival rations and was tired, but he was unable to sleep.  Every move they made was taking him further from Claire and closer to conflict.  Rumour about what they might face was rife, and each village they travelled through seemed to be populated almost exclusively by the elderly, women and children. The next day they were scheduled to reach the railway line to take them closer to the Front.  They knew very little of where they were to go and even less of when they might see home again.  Their greatest fear was fear of the unknown.

 

 

> _Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,_
> 
> _Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,_
> 
> _Till on the haunting flares we turned our back_
> 
> _And towards our distant rest began to trudge._
> 
> _Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots_
> 
> _But limped on, blood-shod._
> 
> _All went lame; all blind;_
> 
> _Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots_
> 
> _Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind._
> 
>  
> 
> _Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—_
> 
> _An ecstasy of fumbling,_
> 
> _Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;_
> 
> _But someone still was yelling out and stumbling_
> 
> _And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,_
> 
> _As under a green sea, I saw him drowning._
> 
> _In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,_
> 
> _He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning._
> 
>  
> 
> _If in some smothering dreams you too could pace_
> 
> _Behind the wagon that we flung him in,_
> 
> _And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,_
> 
> _His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;_
> 
> _If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood_
> 
> _Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,_
> 
> _Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud_
> 
> _Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—_
> 
> _My friend, you would not tell with such high zest_ _To children ardent for some desperate glory,_
> 
> _The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est_
> 
> _Pro patria mori_ _._
> 
> **_Dulce det decorum est pro patria mori_ ** **by Wilfred Owen**
> 
>  
> 
> _Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori_. – _“It is honourable to die for one’s country.”_  
> 
> _Owen was an English poet whose work was characterised by his anger at the cruelty and waste of war, which he experienced during service on the Western Front._
> 
> On 4 November 1918 he was killed while attempting to lead his men across the Sambre canal at Ors, France. The news of his death reached his parents on 11 November, Armistice Day.

[1] 3. Watkins O. S.,  _Methodist Report_ , cited in Amos Fries and C. J. West,  _Chemical Warfare_  (New York: McGraw Hill, 1921), 13; also cited in Joy, “Historical Aspects of Medical Defense,” 90. 


	8. SWALK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the First World War, letter writing was the main form of communication between soldiers and their loved ones, helping to ease the pain of separation.  
> The British Army Postal Service delivered around 2 billion letters during the war. In 1917 alone, over 19,000 mailbags crossed the English Channel each day, transporting letters and parcels to British troops on the Western Front. To put that into perspective, the world's population is now almost 5 times what it was in 1900.
> 
> Sometimes letters were being written to soldiers who had already died, such as the letter at the bottom right of the collage being written by Emily to her fiancé (from the Imperial War Museum, London).
> 
> This was a time when telegrams were considered rapid. Letters were sometimes "sealed with a loving kiss" (SWALK).

 

The days dragged on.  For Claire there seemed to be an endless stream of soldiers needing care, treatment and sustenance before being returned to the Front too early or evacuated to Britain too late.  She had written a letter to Jamie every second day but was yet to hear from him.  She was tired, demoralised and dejected.  Finally, Louise returned from the village brandishing a pile of letters tied with string.

“Claire!  Claire!  I think this one’s from Jamie and you have another from England”, Louise cried.

Claire dropped the washing in the suds and dried her hands quickly.  Her colleagues smiled as her face lit up with excitement and she ran across the camp.  Afraid there might be bad news, she took the letters to her tent and opened them.  First, she read the letter from Jamie:

 

 

> _My darling Claire._
> 
> _I hope this letter reaches you and you are well.  I am currently on the train.  After we left you, we walked for miles to the nearest railway line.  All we know is that we are heading east towards Paris and then probably to the north or north-east of France.  We were all pleased to have some time to sit, even though we are packed in like sardines._
> 
> _God, I miss you Sassenach.  I knew leaving would be hard, but I didn’t realise how unbearable it would be until I took that first step away from you.  I would give anything to have you in my arms now, your curly wig tucked beneath my chin.  How I would love to kiss and caress you.  We’ve been told we needn’t expect any leave for months, but when we do it would be wonderful to meet in Paris.  I can think of a thousand things I would like to do with you, including many which would make you blush.  I won’t write them in this letter in case I’m charged with some form of indecency._
> 
> _Claire, I love you with all my heart.  I dream of you and that beach on Crete._
> 
> _All my love always_
> 
> _Jamie_

Claire read it through twice.  She knew that this would sustain her until she received Jamie’s next letter.  This one had taken almost two weeks to arrive, so Jamie may not have received any letters from her yet.  He might be near the border with Belgium or Germany already.

In his letter, Uncle Lamb told of Belgian refugees being accommodated at St John’s College, Oxford, and a nearby car factory being converted to an ammunitions factory.  Some of his university students had signed up as junior officers in the British forces.  He also painted a picture of a city hit hard by food shortages, saying he got a pound of margarine and suet which would have to last him two weeks.  Part of his college grounds had been converted to a vegetable garden to feed the staff and students and was now being extended to feed families caring for children who had been evacuated from London.  It was clear he hadn’t received Claire’s letter giving a few details of Jamie, so she expected him to address that news in his next letter.

When Claire emerged from her tent, she gave Louise a hug.

“So, how is everyone?”, asked Louise.

Claire told her the direction Jamie was heading and the news from Uncle Lamb in Oxford.  She was aware of the relief she felt from hearing from Jamie and Lamb and hoped that they felt the same upon receiving letters from her.  Claire’s hope was replenished by knowing that the two most important people in her life were coping with, if not relishing, life.

Mary had received a letter from Jenny to let everyone know that she, Ian and the other evacuees had been taken to Southampton and would be moved on to hospitals closer to their homes once they had been assessed.  They were all relieved to know all the evacuees had survived the journey.

While Claire continued to treat the soldiers in La Feuillee, Jamie had arrived in Ypres, Belgium.  The Germans had first entered Ypres in October 1914.  A few days later troops of the French and British Armies arrived in Ypres, passing through the town to the east and taking up defensive positions to hold up the advance of the German Army. From that time the town had been embroiled in virtually continuous war. They were greeted by a grim sight.  So many buildings had been razed to the ground, and the people who remained were visibly exhausted.  Ypres itself was to the west of a long defensive Front which the French and British were determined to hold to prevent the Germans advancing further into Allied territory.  Jamie was one of thousands of troops brought in to replenish the troops, who had fought bitter battles for two years.

In addition to French and British troops, Australian, Canadian and New Zealand troops were brought in.  Some of the new troops were engineers and tunnellers who were part of a plan to dig tunnels and set mines to blow the Germans out of their established positions.  The operation had to be kept secret as the plan relied on the element of surprise.

“Have ye heard what the Australians call Ypres?”, Angus laughed.  “Wipers!”

“Aye, well there are enough accents in ‘Wipers’ to confuse us, ne’er mind the enemy”, Rupert replied.

“Dinna forget the Irish.  Those men from Ulster have an accent that could cut glass”, Jamie joked.

A Kiwi with interesting vowel sounds commented to Rupert that they were the ones with the accents.

“It’s no’ me with an accent, it’s all ye colonials”, Rupert laughed.

In truth, the addition of troops from former British colonies added a bit of interest to life in the trenches.  Many of the Aussie, Kiwi and Canadian troops were from families that had left Scotland years before and settled in places like Nova Scotia (New Scotland, Canada) and Dunedin, New Zealand (its name from  _Dùn Èideann_ , the Scottish Gaelic for Edinburgh).  It wasn’t long before they were working together.

A pile of letters was distributed after the men had been in the trenches for ten days.  Some of the soldiers also received parcels from home with anything from socks to food.  Despite the shortage of everything in the trenches, the men who received food would often share their meagre portions with those who received nothing – not even a letter or card – from home.  Camaraderie could sustain life in these difficult times. 

Jamie had received a parcel from Scotland and a letter from Claire.  He opened Claire’s letter in haste:

 

> _Jamie, my sweetheart._
> 
> _I cannot find the words to tell you how much I miss you.  Eating my meal in the evening is now the saddest time of my day, as you are no longer with me to talk of life after this miserable war.  Even bully beef tasted better when I shared the time with you._
> 
> _I miss your lips on mine, your hand in mine and your heart beating next to mine.  When I go to bed at night, I close my eyes and see if I can recall how it felt to have you here.  It comforts me until I open my eyes and find you are gone. I had a little lipstick left, so I kissed this letter and hope you can taste my lips.  I so wish I could taste yours._
> 
> _Louise has told us that the news from the front is quite good, the Germans having been forced back.  I pray that it means we can be back home, and in one another’s arms, again soon._
> 
> _You are my world, Jamie.  I will love you always._
> 
> _Your devoted Sassenach, Claire_

Jamie smiled at the thought of tasting Claire’s lips.  He folded the letter and placed it in an inside pocket of his shirt, so he could read it multiple times.

His parcel from home contained a Dundee cake, some chocolate and letters from the family.  He read that Ian had arrived back safely on British soil with Jenny but was yet to make it to Scotland.  He was being treated and stabilised in Southampton before the trip north.  Rations were short but being on the farm meant they could supplement them with home-grown vegetables, milk and some meat.  Murtagh was working on the farm with his Da, while his Ma held the fort.  Jamie understood this was a considerable load for them, but he could only hope the war would be over soon and he could return to help.

Rupert and Angus shared their news of home until bullets and shrapnel started flying through the air.  “Anyone’d think there’s a bloody war going on”, Rupert muttered as they returned to the daily grind.

 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow  
Between the crosses, row on row,  
That mark our place; and in the sky  
The larks, still bravely singing, fly  
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago  
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,  
Loved and were loved, and now we lie  
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:  
To you from failing hands we throw  
The torch; be yours to hold it high.  
If ye break faith with us who die  
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow  
In Flanders fields.

**In Flanders Fields by Major John McCrae**

During the early days of the Second Battle of Ypres a young Canadian artillery officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, was killed on 2 May, 1915 in the gun positions near Ypres. An exploding German artillery shell landed near him. He was serving in the same Canadian artillery unit as a friend of his, the Canadian military doctor and artillery commander Major John McCrae.

As the brigade doctor, John McCrae was asked to conduct the burial service for Alexis because the chaplain had been called away somewhere else on duty that evening. It is believed that later that evening, after the burial, John began the draft for his now famous poem “In Flanders Fields”.


	9. Make love, not war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to callysymms (a reader) for encouraging me to “arrange” a period of leave for Jamie and Claire. 
> 
> “Make love, not war” is an anti-war slogan commonly associated with the American counterculture of the 1960s. It was used primarily by those who were opposed to the Vietnam War, but has been invoked in other anti-war contexts since around the world. Other aspects of this chapter are a reminder of the different attitudes held in relation to sex before marriage. (Better wash my mouth out with soap and water.)

 

Life became repetitive.  War, rations, injuries, dressings, the sound of weapons, death, repeat.  The only thing to look forward to was a letter.  Today’s letter was special.

 

 

> _My precious Claire._
> 
> _I pray that you get this letter in time and that you can come to Paris.  I have leave for ten days from December the 5 th to December the 15th.  It will take me a few days to get to Paris and a few days to return to Ypres, so we might have six days together.  God Claire, I cannot believe we might be together soon.  My heart is pounding with the thought._
> 
> _The men here who know Paris have told me we should meet at the Gare du Nord.  Can you be there at 4pm on December the 7 th?  If you could see me, you would see I’m on my knees praying that you can be there.  I swear I will pull out all my hair if you cannot._
> 
> _Please write back straight away.  If I don’t receive a letter from you, I will wait at the Gare du Nord at the ticket office._
> 
> _I can feel my lips on yours already._
> 
> _All my love_
> 
> _Jamie_

 

Claire opened the letter, screamed with excitement and ran to Denzell.

“Please, please.  Can I have some leave to meet Jamie in Paris?”, she pleaded as she jumped on the spot.

Denzell rubbed his chin considering her request.  Claire thought she might burst.  “Oh – I suppose so!” he finally said, and she hugged him.  “Claire, you’ve earned a break.  I have no idea how we’ll cope without you, but we will.  Just be sure to bring yourself back to us.”

Claire skipped across the camp to tell Louise and Mary, who were pouring cups of tea for the soldiers.  They both laughed at her excitement.  Louise took her aside.

“Claire, I have a small studio apartment in Paris.  I'll return there when this war is over. You are very welcome to use it.  It has all the pots and pans, plates, cutlery and things you will need for a holiday.  You can collect my key from the patisserie on the ground floor, and they will look after you and Jamie.  I will give you a note to take with you.  I want you to enjoy your time.  You have spent two years looking after everyone else”, Louise told her.  “By the way, it has a very comfortable bed”, she added with a wink.  Claire felt a blush work up her body from her ankles: “Louise!”

As soon as she had a spare moment, Claire replied to Jamie telling him she would meet him as planned and that they could use Louise’s apartment.  Then the wait began.  She wondered if it was possible for time to move any slower as she waited for the day she was scheduled to head off for Paris. 

On _the_ day, she was up at the crack of dawn and waiting for the bus to Rennes half an hour before it was due to leave.  From Rennes, she caught a train to Paris.  She took her bag and Louise’s note to the patisserie, where the owner gave her the key to the studio apartment.  She unlocked the door and stepped inside a compact but pretty apartment, with high ceilings and large windows.  It was paradise after living in camps.  She opened the curtains to let the winter sun in and then walked to Gare du Nord to wait for Jamie.  She was quite early, so she was walking at a relaxed pace when she was whisked off her feet by the large, redheaded Scot.

“Oh god, Jamie, you gave me a fright!”, she smiled.  Then their lips met, and she never wanted that kiss to end.  When they finally parted to breathe, she looked at the tired but happy Scot and ran her hand across his cheek.  “You are even more handsome than I remembered, Jamie Fraser”, she told him. 

“Ye are the most beautiful woman in the world, Sassenach”, he told her with a Cheshire cat grin.

They walked arm in arm to the studio apartment, Jamie carrying his pack.  Claire felt like she was floating.  Within moments of arriving, they were lying on the bed kissing passionately.  The heat being generated by their bodies was enough to warm the entire apartment, even in winter.

“Jamie, please make love to me”, Claire told him.

“I canna take yer maidenhead Claire.  Not until we are wed”, Jamie replied.

“I want you to, Jamie.  I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life”, she told him.

“Ye think I dinna want you too, Claire?  God, I have burned for you for so long, do ye not know that?  But Claire, if something were to happen to me ye would no longer be a virgin.  I would be responsible for ruining ye, and I couldna live with that.  And if ye were to fall pregnant, yer life would be destroyed”.  Jamie had obviously struggled with these thoughts.

“So, my punishment for loving you would be to be labelled a “fallen angel”?  Losing my virginity would be akin to being a murderer?”, she told him in anguished tones.

Jamie wore a wicked grin.  “That doesna mean we canna enjoy one another.”

Claire laughed: “Oh, I intend to enjoy every bit of you, James Fraser.  And you are one _big_ man!”

Jamie embraced her.  One of his hands gently took hold of her breast: “I plan to start with these magnificent examples of womanhood”.  She gasped at the sheer glory of feeling his hand run over her.  He began to unbutton her blouse and she stared into his mischievous, sparkling blue eyes as he steadily worked his way down the row of pearly barriers.  When all the buttons were undone, she sat up, removing the blouse and her bra.  Jamie looked at her lovingly, then ran his tongue over her nipples as he held her breasts.  Claire squealed with pleasure and ran her fingers through his curls: “Oh God Jamie, how I’ve missed you”.

“And I, ye.”  He rolled her over so her back was on his chest, feeling her breasts and kissing her shoulders.   “I love those wee noises ye make, Claire.”  His hand moved down her body, creating ripples of sensual pleasure.  She could feel the heat of his body and the pounding of his heart on her back.

“Take off your shirt.  I want to see you”, she told him. 

She watched as he removed his shirt, then she kissed his bare chest and rubbed her breasts against him.  She watched his face as he became more aroused and was aware of how difficult it was for him to bear an engorged penis. 

Her hand slid beneath his kilt, touching his penis, and his head shot up: “God, Sassenach.  You’ll be the death of me!”  She took his penis in her hand and gently stroked it.  He called out something, she assumed in Gàidhlig, as she held him in the palm of her hand, literally, and moved at a steady pace.  Less than a minute later, she felt him release his seed and he lay on his back with a look of ecstasy on his face.  For about 10 seconds, he was in a trance-like state and she watched as he wiped some beads of sweat from his brow.

“Did you like it?”, she asked.

“Like it?  Christ, I’ve never felt anything like it.  I mean, yer a nurse, and you know that men do _those_ things to themselves but having ye do it to me brought a pleasure I’ve never known afore, Sassenach”, Jamie told her enraptured.

Claire placed her head on his chest and hugged him. “I enjoyed watching you, Jamie.  To bring you such pleasure feels good.”

“Everything about ye brings me pleasure, Claire”.  He wrapped his arms around her and they both slept awhile, tired from their travels.

When she woke, it was dark.  Claire pulled a blanket around her shoulders, shut the curtains and tiptoed into the kitchen area.  She had brought enough from the patisserie for an evening meal, including a jug of milk for a hot drink.  She warmed the food in the oven, found two plates and returned to the bed, where Jamie was lying half asleep.  She lit a candle by the bed.  Jamie sat up and placed two pillows behind his head, kissed Claire and took one of the plates from her.

“This is like a recurring dream I had in the trenches”, he smiled.  “Ye with few clothes on, serving me food and letting me feel yer breasts.”

“Finish your meal and then we’ll create a few more dreams together”, Claire said with a cheeky grin.

They ate together, sometimes pausing to kiss one another, then lay on the bed talking and touching.  Comfortable in the bed, Claire drifted to sleep.  She woke suddenly to find Jamie creeping down the bed and lifting one of her legs over his shoulder.  Seconds later, she was clinging to the bedhead as Jamie’s tongue explored between her legs.  As he gently stimulated her, she called out “Oh God, bullseye!”  She saw his red curls moving as he took a firm hold on her hips and continued until she reached a crescendo.  “Oh God, Jamie!  My head’s spinning!”

“Aye, that’s not the only part of ye spinning, Sassenach”, he declared proudly as he moved up the bed and lay next to her, his hands stroking her breasts.  “And ye’re noisy, _mo chidre._   I love it when ye call out my name in ecstasy.”

“I will get my revenge”, she gasped.  “I’m counting on it, Sassenach”, Jamie smiled.  And she did.

 

 _If I should think of love_  
_I'd think of you, your arms uplifted,_  
_Tying your hair in plaits above,_  
_The lyre shape of your arms and shoulders,_  
_The soft curve of your winding head._  
_No melody is sweeter, nor could Orpheus_  
_So have bewitched. I think of this,_  
_And all my universe becomes perfection._  
_But were you in my arms, dear love,_  
_The happiness would take my breath away,_  
_No thought could match that ecstasy,_  
_No song encompass it, no other worlds._  
_If I should think of love,_  
_I'd think of you._

**_William Shakespeare_ **

**_Sonnet 116_ **


	10. Parting is such sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire's reunion in Paris comes to an end.

 

During their time in Paris, there were a number of things Claire and Jamie discovered: they could spend two thirds of the day in bed and be perfectly happy, that 69 was their favourite number, that they adored one another more every day, and that six days together was nowhere near enough.  They had been together day and night for six days – walking, talking, eating, discovering one another’s bodies – and never tired of one another.  They lived in their own perfect little bubble.

Before they knew it, the time to part had arrived again.  Parting was even more difficult than it had been previously.  Jamie had to leave first.  Watching him filling his pack was so difficult that Claire went for a short walk, buying him some food for the trip back to Ypres.  When she returned, she found Jamie sitting by the window, his pack ready by the door.

“We have to leave in 15 minutes”, he said looking out into the streets of Paris.  It was too difficult to say those words to her face.

Claire was unable to contain her grief, bursting into tears.  Jamie swept her off her feet and laid her on the bed, taking her in his arms.  “Claire, this war will be over soon and then we’ll be together forever.  We’ll be wed, we’ll make love on that beach in Crete, we’ll have bairns and we’ll grow old together.  I will love ye always”, he told her as he stroked her hair.

They lay there in silence, interrupted only by Claire’s crying.  Finally, he told her: “It’s time. We must go.”

Claire quickly washed her face, Jamie lifted his pack and they walked to Gare du Nord hand in hand, stopping to kiss occasionally.  Claire managed to hold back tears until Jamie had to make a last-minute dash for the train, waving to her as he went.  And then he was gone.  Her chest hurt, the tears flowed, her throat was dry, and she walked quickly back to Louise’s apartment with her face down.  She struggled to get the key into the door lock, her eyes filled with tears, and when she got through the door she fell on the bed.  She cried herself to sleep and woke feeling bereft with a stuffy nose and bags under her eyes.  She had never felt so alone.

Knowing that she must return to La Feuillee, she forced herself to clean up the apartment.  Everything was a gargantuan effort.  Eventually, she had done all the chores and packed her bag.  Packing to come to Paris had been so exciting, but now it was just another job to be done.  The simplest thing required the maximum effort.  She walked to the station and waited for the train to Rennes, feeling very alone.  On arrival in Rennes, she waited for the bus to La Feuillee.  She had thought of Jamie all the time, too grief stricken to read, but she knew she would write to him the moment she was back in her tent.

The next few weeks were difficult.  Everyone in the camp did their best to put on a happy face for Christmas, even though they all wished they were home with family and friends.  They held hands and sang _Auld Lang_ Syne as it turned midnight and the New Year began.  The few remaining players of the Brittany bagpipes in La Feuillee played music in the village square as the local people saw in the new year in traditional style. Claire prayed that this would be the year the war would finally end.

Claire wrote to Jamie every few days and longed to hear from him.  She received one letter from Uncle Lamb with an outline of his current life in Oxford.  He had received her letter telling him of Jamie and told her he was looking forward to meeting the man who had captured the heart of his wonderful niece.  She smiled when she read: “He must be an exceptional man, my darling, to have won you.”

When she received a letter from Ypres, she felt an overwhelming feeling of relief.  It was a short letter but confirmation that Jamie was alright:

> _My dearest Claire._
> 
> _The trip back to Ypres was terrible.  I usually enjoy train trips, but this one is at the bottom of my list.  Leaving you, returning to war, not knowing when we’d see one another again.  It was all too awful._
> 
> _Things have become more difficult here.  It’s much colder and wetter.  Crete is sounding better and better. Everyone seems to have this overwhelming feeling that it will never end._
> 
> _Thank God for our time in Paris.  I close my eyes and imagine us together in bed.  It is all that sustains me.  Take care, my Sassenach.  I need you like I need oxygen._
> 
> _Love and think of you always,_
> 
> _Jamie_

 As usual, she placed the letter in a small biscuit tin so that she could read it and his previous letters at the end of each day.  Also stored were the ribbons from their handfasting ceremony. The contents of that tin were the most precious things in her life.

She continued to write, but a month passed, and she heard nothing from Jamie.  There had been two postal deliveries to the camp, including a letter from Lamb.  Her colleagues in the camp did their best to support her but she became increasingly withdrawn. 

It had been two months since she last heard from Jamie when a letter arrived from Scotland addressed to Claire.  She looked at the back of the envelope to see neatly printed: _‘From J. Fraser, Lallybroch, Near Broch Mordha, Scotland’_.  She went to her tent feeling apprehensive. 

Louise and Mary watched as she walked away from them.  “I have a bad feeling about this, mon amie”, Louise told Mary.  “The letter is from Jenny.”

Just moments later, they heard Claire scream: “No!  No!  Not Jamie!”

They ran to Claire’s tent and found her on her knees on the floor of the tent, her arms crossed across her stomach.  Her sobs were guttural, as if her sounds of grief were coming straight from her stomach. Next to her was an envelope and a single piece of paper.  As Louise threw her arms around Claire, Mary lifted the paper and read it:

            _Jamie is lost.  I’m so sorry Claire, Jenny._

Louise held Claire for over half an hour, rocking her gently as she sobbed in her arms.  Mary had left to get Denzell and Rachel, and they all returned crying.  They had seen the first days of the beautiful romance between Claire and Jamie, and now they bore witness to the overwhelming grief of their friend.  They had all witnessed too much heartache in the past few years, but this felt like a family sharing loss.

Eventually, Denzell decided to give Claire a mild sedative.  Louise squeezed her stretcher into Claire’s tent and slept alongside her, not wanting her to be alone.  Mary completed the vital chores, peeking into Claire’s tent to give Louise a cup of tea.  The cloud of grief enveloped them all.

**_The same day at Lallybroch_ **

Ellen and Jenny Fraser were busy in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and meat for the evening meal.  Brian and Murtagh had been checking the few cattle and sheep they had and were stabling the horses for the night.  Ian was resting by the fire in the lounge after chopping kindling.

“Do you think Jamie’s Sassenach will have received yer letter yet, Jenny?  There was nothing in the post today”, Ellen asked.

“The mail to France is slow Ma.  We may not hear for months, if at all”, Jenny replied.

“Surely she’ll write when she hears how bad Jamie is.  Ye did tell her all about it didn’t ye?”, Ellen asked again.

“Aye, but Claire is very busy in France saving lives Ma.  She’s a very good nurse and they need her there.  It takes a special person to care for all those badly injured and brave men”.  Jenny looked away from her mother as she spoke, a lump in her throat. 

 

 _Here dead we lie_  
Because we did not choose  
To live and shame the land  
From which we sprung.

 _Life, to be sure,_  
Is nothing much to lose,  
But young men think it is,  
And we were young.

**Here dead we lie by A.E. Housman**


	11. Perhaps some day the sun will shine again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My last chapter prompted some comments and direct messages urging me to let them know what had happened. A few said they needed to know by Christmas.
> 
> I knocked out three chapters in one night and am now refining them so that I can accelerate the story. I haven't changed what was whizzing about in my brain - I'm just speeding things up. I will post these chapters every second (possibly third) day. I won't finish the story by Christmas, but I will hopefully leave you knowing what, where and why. I thank you for your comments, as they reflect a genuine interest in the story. Have faith!
> 
> Acknowledgement of source of Lyons corner house image: Pic of Lyons corner By Kim Traynor - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28385968

 

Everyone at the camp had become increasingly concerned for Claire.  It had been a month since news of Jamie had come from Scotland, and the impact had been severe. 

Claire had lost weight, she ate very little, she was forgetful and complained of headaches.  She had difficulty sleeping at night, but often napped whilst on duty.  She had told Denzell that her heart must be literally broken, as she experienced pains in the chest.  Denzell knew all these were physical manifestations of grief, and being surrounded by a constant stream of injured, dying and dead wasn’t helping.

Finally, Denzell sat with Claire and presented her with a proposal.

“Claire, there is no shame in experiencing grief.  You have treated soldiers and watched them die for two years, and now you have lost someone you loved dearly.”

He handed Claire a handkerchief as he spoke to wipe away her tears.  “You need a break, and we need someone to take the latest group of casualties home.  We have amputees, shell shock victims and blind men who need someone to travel with them, and I would like you to go.  If you feel able to return after a rest, we would love to have you back, but I also think you can do a great deal of good back in England.  You have first hand experience of what these soldiers have been through and that knowledge is a powerful help to their rehabilitation.  I’m expecting transport for these men in the next 48 hours.  Will you please think about it?  I have friends treating our war wounded at a number of hospitals in England, and I know they would all welcome you at places like Seale Hayne in Devon or Ashworth War Hospital in Oxford.”

Although she felt muddled and depressed, Claire was cognisant of the need to do _something_ to deal with her grief.  She also knew that La Feuillee was a constant reminder of Jamie. The next day, she told Denzell she would accompany the injured soldiers and wrote a letter to Uncle Lamb.  It would be difficult to leave Louise and Mary.  They had worked together as a team for a long time, and were effectively the sisters she had never had, but they understood and told her she could always return.

“You know where my apartment in Paris is, ma chère.  You can visit me after this dreadful war is over”, Louise told her.

“And ye can visit me in Scotland”, Mary told her. 

Claire packed her belongings and waited for the transport to arrive.

By the time transport had been arranged and Claire had travelled by military ambulance and boat to Southampton, her uncle Lamb had cleared the spare bedroom of archaeological finds ready for her.  Claire accompanied the soldiers to Netley Hospital in Southampton and helped them settle in, Lamb arriving a few days later to travel back to Oxford on the train with her.

When Claire saw Lamb enter Netley Hospital, there was a sensation of relief.  She sobbed in his arms.  They walked through the hospital grounds awhile while she composed herself, talking of so many things her head spun.  That evening, they left Southampton and headed to London and then Oxford.

After a few days of doing very little, Claire began to reacclimatise herself with Britain.  She was with Lamb in a Lyons Corner House having tea when she overhead a conversation between two middle-aged women.

“Have you seen the number of men out at Ashworth War Hospital now?  Reckon they’ve got shell shock.  Well, I reckon they’re just cowards”, said one.

“That’s right.  They’re no better than deserters, they should be shot.  They’re just weak and I’ve got no sympathy for them, coming back from France and taking it easy while our boys are out there risking their lives”, agreed the other as she sipped her tea.  Lamb watched as Claire became angry: “Don’t do it, Claire …”  Too late.

Claire walked over to the women: “So, you’ve both been in France for a year or two, have you?  You’ve seen the conditions our soldiers are in and the injuries they’ve sustained?  You appear to be experts on the subject, after all”, Claire snapped.

“Well, of course we haven’t.  We’re needed back here with our families”, one woman said defensively.

“They would love to be with their loved ones too.  I’ve just come back from two years in military hospital camps in France, and I can tell you that these men are losing legs, arms, their sight and their minds fighting for this country.  I salute all of them, and so should you”.  As she finished a small group of men in uniform, sitting by the window, applauded her: “You tell ‘em love” one of them said, blowing her a kiss.

When she returned to their table, Lamb looked at her with a grin: “So, can I assume you’ll be working at Ashworth soon?”

“Probably”, Claire replied as she finished her tea.  “What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at my beautiful niece, who I have missed so much.  Don’t ever change Claire.” 

Lamb knew that Claire was feisty.  Although she had a long way to go in dealing with her grief, working would be a valuable distraction for her and a great service to the returned servicemen who needed care from someone who had some appreciation of what they had suffered, and were still suffering in the face of ignorance.

The next day, Claire turned up at Ashworth unannounced.  She asked to speak to the matron, and was greeted by a starched, no-nonsense woman who looked her up and down.  Claire felt she had been assessed in less than five seconds.  She explained her situation and her interest in working with war wounded.

The matron was chipper when she realised Claire had “real” war experience.  “Would you be interested in working in the war neurosis wards?”, she asked.  When Claire said she would, the matron said: “Well, no time like the present.  Come with me.”  She led Claire through a labyrinth of corridors to a locked area.  Once inside, Matron went in search of Joe Abernathy and left Claire to speak to him.  “Come and see me when you’ve finished with Joe”, she told Claire.

Joe showed Claire some of the therapies being used with the war neurosis, or shell shocked, victims.  He was quick to explain that shell shock was a misnomer.

“Many of these soldiers have seen horrific things.  Their neurosis isn’t necessarily linked to shell fire, although in some cases it will have contributed to their condition.  I’m in charge of massage and other therapies and I need some help with that.  I’ll teach you but given your experience I don’t think it’ll take long”, he smiled.  He paused for a moment.  “Claire, some of the patients don’t like to be touched by a man, and particularly not by a black man.  I don’t think I need to tell you about the prejudice people like me experience.  Your help will make a big difference here”.

Claire smiled and faced Joe.  “You need not have any concerns about working with me, Joe.  I have lived in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern countries and know from experience that the colour of one’s skin makes no difference to the quality of the person.  I think we’ll get along just fine and will soon be working as a team”, Claire told him.

“Welcome to Ashworth.  Expect the unexpected Claire”, Joe said shaking her hand.

Matron was delighted to welcome her to the staff and Claire began work at Ashworth the next day.  She soon discovered the range of conditions suffered by soldiers with war neurosis.  Some were mute, some spoke only a few words, many stammered, and some were paralysed with fear and anxiety.  When on nights, she found that they suffered night terrors, disorientation and sweats.  In their nightmares, they relived their experiences of combat.  There were more shell shock victims than there were hospital beds to treat them.

In addition to their symptoms, these soldiers often received little or no sympathy, even from family and friends.  The emotional and social isolation exacerbated their symptoms.  Joe and others found massage was particularly beneficial.  It involved human contact, relaxed muscles tightened by anxiety, increased flexibility and encouraged sleep.  It also allowed social interaction, even if it was often one-way communication.

Joe soon found Claire was a natural.  Her patients responded well, and he enjoyed working with her.  Above all, she was professional _and_ kind.  As they got to know one another, Claire told him why she’d returned from France.  She also gained some understanding of what it was like to be a person with black skin in England at that time.    They began to keep diaries of techniques that worked well with patients, finding that massage, rest, and diet were important.  They experimented with encouraging speech and some occupational therapy.  A visiting doctor would also use hypnosis to encourage soldiers to speak about their trauma, allowing them to focus on the cause of their neuroses.

Living with Lamb and being able to spend time with him was wonderful.  When Claire wasn’t on duty, she would enjoy sharing memories of their travels and finds.  She was aware of her loss all the time, like an ache in her heart, and there were still those periods of solitude when she wept for Jamie.  She kept her biscuit tin with letters from Jamie by her bed.  She still had the ribbons used in the handfasting ceremony.  She would lay these mementos on her bed and consider all the “what ifs” even though it hurt.  It was six months since she had waved farewell to Jamie at Gare du Nord.  She could still close her eyes and visualise her beautiful Scot.

 

_Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,_  
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,  
And feel once more I do not live in vain,  
Although bereft of You.

_Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet_  
Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay,  
And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,  
Though You have passed away.

_Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,_  
And crimson roses once again be fair,  
And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,  
Although You are not there.

_Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain_  
To see the passing of the dying year,  
And listen to Christmas songs again,  
Although You cannot hear.

_But though kind Time may many joys renew,_  
There is one greatest joy I shall not know  
Again, because my heart for loss of You  
Was broken, long ago.

**_Perhaps by Vera Brittain_ **

Vera’s poem was dedicated to her fiancé, Roland Aubrey Leighton, who was killed at the age of 20 by a sniper in 1915, four months after she had accepted his marriage proposal.


	12. The Godfather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor turns Claire's world upside down.

Some weeks later, Claire was at home reading in Lamb’s study.  It was Sunday and she had a day off.  This was her favourite room in the house.  There was an entire wall of floor to ceiling bookshelves, with a moveable ladder so that the top shelves could be reached.  Polished floorboards, rugs, an open fire, an old desk and comfortable couches made it a sanctuary.  She was skimming through a book she had read before, _The Secret Garden_ by Francis Hodgson Burnett – ostensibly a children’s novel published a few years before, but she loved it.  She had regularly dreamed of having her own walled garden, until her dream space was taken up by James Fraser.  She heard a quiet knock on the front door and heard Lamb’s footsteps as he walked to answer it.  She could hear distant voices but none she recognised, other than Lamb’s.

The footsteps approached the library door and it creaked open. 

“You really need to oil those hinges Lamb”, Claire muttered.  She looked up to see that Lamb was accompanied by a man in a kilt.  She guessed he was about 50.  He had intense eyes, dark hair, a full beard and a complexion that indicated a life in the outdoors.  He was carrying a leather satchel, strapped across his chest.  He nodded at Claire as Lamb introduced him:

“Claire, this gentleman has come a long way to see you.  His name is Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser”, Lamb told her.

Claire sat on the couch, stunned, for about 10 silent seconds.  Murtagh and Lamb watched as a single tear fell down her right cheek.  She stood and flattened out the creases in her skirt.  “Good afternoon, Mr Fraser.  I’m sorry if I look shocked but … well, I am.  Please, have a seat.  I’ll get us some tea.”

“I can do that Claire.  Mr Fraser must have important business to have come all this way”, said Lamb before leaving the room.

Claire was feeling quite uncomfortable, as was Murtagh.  “How far have you travelled Mr Fraser?”, she asked.

“I travelled from Broch Mordha to Edinburgh, where I caught a train to London.  From there I caught another train to Oxford.  I went to one of the colleges and asked after yer uncle and … here I am.  It’s been a long journey, but one I needed to make.  I dinna think letters are enough for all situations, and I wanted to meet ye”, Murtagh replied.

Lamb returned with a pot of tea and cups on a tray.  He poured the tea and offered one to Murtagh.

“If ye dinna mind, I think I should tell Claire why I’m here before she has a hot drink in her hand.  I also wanted you to be here, Mr Beauchamp”, Murtagh said nervously.  “There’s no easy way to say this, Claire, so I’ll just tell ye.  I understand Jenny wrote to ye giving the impression Jamie had died”.

“Yes, she told me he was lost.  Why?”, Claire said puzzled.

“Well, ye could say he’s lost Claire, but he’s not dead.  Jamie is suffering from shell shock and it’s bad”, Murtagh replied.

Lamb held her as she shook.  He told her later that she appeared to emit all the air in her body in one gasp.  She had difficulty breathing.  Murtagh looked alarmed and jumped up.  Lamb held her head and reassured her as she cleared her airways, Lamb reminding her to breathe in and out.  It took several minutes for her to settle down.

“I’m so sorry Claire.  This is why I wanted to tell ye in person and be sure someone was here with ye.  Jamie’s mother had a similar response when she found out what Jenny had done.  It’s unforgiveable, but of course we didna ken what she’d done until Ian’s family found out.  He swore he would kill her if she didna tell the rest of us the same day.  There was a mighty stramash in the Fraser household, I can tell ye.  I had been angry with ye for not writing to him or visiting the lad, and then I find out ye’d left France grief stricken.  I coulda throttled Jenny”, Murtagh explained.

“How _did_ you find out I’d left France in grief?”, Claire asked him.

“Yer friend Mary wrote to her family and told them ye were inconsolable after receiving a letter from Jenny telling ye of Jamie’s death, and then Mary’s mother told the Murrays at a gathering.  They knew that wasna true, so they told Ian.  When Ian confronted her Jenny spilled the beans”.  Murtagh was red in the face as he told them.  He clearly felt the rage he had when he first heard the shocking tale.

Claire leaned forward on the couch.  “But why would Jenny do that?  I thought she was my friend and she was happy for us.  She saw how much Jamie and I loved each other.  I just don’t understand. All I wanted was for Jamie to be safe.  I could cope with him losing an arm or a leg or something. I just wanted him to be alive and for us to be together.”  Claire’s emotions were laid bare – she was angry yet happy, upset yet joyous.

Lamb encouraged Claire and Murtagh to sit and drink their tea as everyone’s emotions settled.

After drinking his tea, Murtagh said to Claire: “I can only say that I believe Jenny made a serious error of judgement, and not one which was hers to make. Shell shock victims have not been treated kindly by some. But also, I must ask ye something.  I spend hours sitting with Jamie and he only utters two words over and over: “Sassenach” and “Crete”.  I can see why he loves his Sassenach but we canna understand the importance of Crete.”

Claire laughed, blushed and cried simultaneously.  “Yes, I do understand.  Years ago, Lamb took me to the island of Crete on an archaeological dig near Chania.”

“Yes, I recall”, Lamb interjected.  “The search for Minoan palaces.”

“That’s right.  The beaches in that area are so beautiful.  I told Jamie that when we were married, we should make love on the beach in Crete.  He often talked about it afterwards, when we considered life after this war.”

“Well, now I understand why it’s so important to the lad, and why he canna stop talking about it”, Murtagh smiled.

Murtagh reached into his satchel and took out some documents.  “Ye can see the report on Jamie from Kingston House Hospital in Edinburgh.  Brian and Ellen didna like the treatment he was getting there so they decided to take him home.

“They couldn’t get him into Craiglockhart?” Claire asked.

“No, it’s only for officers.  But you know of it?”  Murtagh looked surprised.

“Yes, I’m working at a similar hospital in Oxford.  In fact, Joe, a good friend and colleague of mine, is coming here for dinner tonight.  He’s had a lot of experience with war neuroses.  You should join us Murtagh.  Would that be alright Lamb?”, Claire asked.

“Excellent idea”, Lamb responded.

Murtagh thanked them for the invitation, then looked at Claire a little concerned.  “This Joe – he’s yer friend?”

Claire could see where Murtagh was taking the conversation.  “Yes Murtagh, just a friend.  There has been no one else in my love life since Jamie, and I doubt there ever will be.  Did you know we had a handfasting ceremony in La Feuillee?”

“I did.  It was a while before we found out.  Ian was in Southampton for months and Jenny stayed with him.  She told us some time after they got to Scotland.  She also told us that you were a very beautiful and canny lass.  When we found out she’d misled ye, she told us she was sure ye would meet someone else who didna have a … handicap like Jamie.  It was one reason she wanted ye to believe Jamie was dead.  She said she wanted ye to move on and not be saddled with someone in such a state.”

“I think it’s for me to decide who I love and why I love them.  Which leads me to my next question: did you come to see me in the hope that I would return to Scotland with you?  Or did you just want to convey a message?”, Claire asked.

Murtagh smiled.  “I came here with an open mind.  I thought ye might have met someone else, or ye may be so angry that ye didna want to know any of the Frasers.  Any decision ye make must be yours, Claire.”

“Yes, it must be.  Not Jenny’s decision, not yours, mine.  I can tell you one thing Murtagh – I love Jamie and that will never change.”

“Aye Sassenach.  I’m glad I came.  Crete – I’d never have worked that out.”

As they talked, Claire and Lamb discovered Murtagh was booked into a bed and breakfast close by.  Lamb invited him to stay a while, but Murtagh was intent on getting back to Lallybroch.  Ellen and Brian were taking care of the property and Jamie and it was quite a load to bear.  By the time Joe arrived for dinner everyone’s emotions had settled and there was a sense of comfort in the house.  Murtagh was initially surprised to meet Joe, and Joe also shocked at the news of Jamie, but they were chatting happily within minutes, the main subject being Jamie’s condition.

As Murtagh described what Jamie could and couldn’t do, Joe was making notes about suitable exercises and therapies.  They talked and wrote late into the evening.  It was Joe who finally raised the question in everyone’s minds:

“LJ, are you planning to go back to Scotland with Murtagh?  Are you going to work with Jamie and see how he responds?”

“LJ?”, Murtagh said looking puzzled.

“A nickname I have for Claire, Murtagh.  LJ stands for Lady Jane, as in Lady Jane Grey an English noblewoman and de facto Queen of England and Ireland hundreds of years ago.  Claire is a very noble and well-educated woman, so it seemed appropriate”, Joe explained.

“Aye, well I can see what ye mean by the noble.  I’ll no argue with ye about that.  I’ve come to understand why my nephew was smitten.  What say ye Sassenach?”

“Yes, I’m going to Scotland with you Murtagh, on one provision”, Claire replied.

“Jenny?”, Murtagh asked.

“Yes, I couldn’t face her until I see what’s going on and have a chance to talk to Jamie’s parents.  I’ll come back for a month and we’ll see how we go during that time.  I need to see Matron tomorrow to explain the situation.  How do you feel about it Joe?  And you, Lamb?”, Claire told them.

Lamb replied first: “I knew the moment Murtagh told us Jamie was alive that you would go to him.  How could you not?”  Claire kissed his cheek.

Then Joe: “I don’t want you working with me if all you can think of is whether you’ve done the right thing, LJ.  You need to go, and I know Matron and I will love you no matter what you do in the long term.” Claire rose and walked round the table to hug Joe.

Murtagh smiled at all of them:  “Thank you.  My godson is the closest I’ve ever had to a son of my own, and I want the very best for him.  I think Claire is the very best and maybe his only chance.  I’ll send a telegram to Ellen and Brian first thing in the morning and get the train timetable.  Is tomorrow evening too early to leave, Claire?”

“That’s fine, if the trains work out.  I can pack quickly”, Claire told him.

  
  
**A letter home**

Private Albert Ford wrote to his wife, Edith, on a scrap piece of paper before going 'over the top'.

"My darling if this should ever reach you it will be a sure sign that I am gone under and what will become of you and the chicks I do not know but there is one above that will see to you and not let you starve.

You have been the best of wives and I loved you deeply, how much you will never know. Dear heart, do think sometimes of me in the future when your grief has worn a bit, and the older children, I know won't forget me, and speak sometimes of me to the younger ones.

Dearest, if the chance should come your way for you are young and good looking and should a good man give you an offer it would please me to think you would take it, not to grieve too much for me…

I should not have left you thus bringing suffering and poverty on a loving wife and children for which in time I hope you will forgive me.

So dear heart I will bid you all farewell hoping to meet you in the time to come if there is a hereafter. Know that my last thoughts were of you in the dugout or on the fire step my thoughts went out to you, the only one I ever loved, the one that made a man of me."

Albert was killed in action on 26 October 1917. His last letter was treasured by Edith until her death. She never remarried and as she lay dying in February 1956 she said she could see Albert in the corner of her bedroom.

Source: https://news.sky.com/story/dear-heart-love-letters-from-the-trenches-released-10767255


	13. Out of the gloom they gather about my bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Murtagh head to Scotland, where Claire meets Brian and Ellen Fraser for the first time and reunites with Jamie.

Murtagh checked the train timetable and found services which would get them to Edinburgh without having to wait too long in London.  Claire packed a suitcase with her belongings and carried a smaller bag with all the information and plans she and Joe had developed.  Matron had assured her there would be a job for her should she wish to return.

Lamb accompanied them to the station.  Just before she boarded the train, he produced a savings book: “Claire, I have put a small amount of money into this account every birthday and Christmas.  It has built up into a tidy sum.  I think you might need it, so please take it with you.  And know that I would welcome you with open arms at any time.  I hope you are not too shocked with what you find.”

Claire hugged Lamb: “You have always been there for me, Lamb.  I can never thank you enough.  I will write soon.”

She and Murtagh boarded the train, Claire and Lamb waving farewell to one another as the train left the platform.  Lamb reflected on the joy Claire had brought into his life.  Initially, he had been concerned about the responsibility of raising a young girl, but she had brought him so much more than he had given her.  She never failed to amaze him – her bravery, strength and determination.  Claire was reflecting on how lucky she had been to have Lamb there to pick up the pieces when her parents died.

From Oxford to London, she explained her initial plans for Jamie based on all that Murtagh had told her.  He had painted a pretty bleak picture of Jamie’s condition and she braced herself for what she might find.  The journey from London to Edinburgh was quieter.  Murtagh had told Claire they were scheduled to arrive “at sparrow’s fart” in the morning, so they slept on the train.  Murtagh had telegrammed Brian and Ellen to let them know their travel plans.

Claire felt butterflies in her stomach as she and Murtagh alighted from the train and a tall, distinguished looking man waved to Murtagh.  “’Tis Brian, Jamie’s Da”, Murtagh told her.

Claire was surprised when Brian opened his arms and embraced her: “Ye have no idea how delighted I am to meet ye lass.  Ellen and I are so delighted ye came.  Thank ye.”

He turned to Murtagh: “And thank ye Murtagh.  Ye must be tired.  Let’s get back to Lallybroch.”  Brian held his arm out and encouraged Claire to link her arm with his, taking her suitcase in his other hand.

“I can carry that Brian”, she told him.

“I know ye can, but it would be my privilege.  Ellen canna wait to meet ye”, he smiled.

Brian had arranged for a motor car to get them to Lallybroch, explaining that they usually used horse transport, but he wanted her to travel comfortably to their home.  Claire climbed into the back seat and looked out as they travelled to Lallybroch.  The beauty of Scotland was on full display.  It was breathtaking.  The vehicle drew close to a beautiful building with an archway entrance.

“Welcome to Lallybroch, Claire”, Brian told her.  She was amazed.  She hadn’t expected such an impressive home.

As the vehicle drove through the archway and slowed to a halt, a tall, elegant woman opened the main door and waved excitedly.  Claire smiled and waved in return.  This must be Ellen Fraser and there was no doubting that she was Jamie’s mother.  The hair and the eyes were so reminiscent of Jamie on that first day they met.

As Brian carried her case, Claire was welcomed into the Fraser home and led to a homely lounge room with antique furniture.  She was introduced to Mrs Crook, who appeared like magic with sandwiches, cakes and cups of tea.  The first fifteen minutes were filled with polite conversation and pleasantries, until Murtagh asked: “Would you like to see Jamie now, Claire?”

“Very much.  I need to make it clear to both of you, Brian and Ellen, that I have worked with shell shock victims, so I have some idea of what to expect.  Of course, it being Jamie is going to be far more emotional but please don’t be worried”, Claire said reassuringly.

Ellen took Claire by the hand and squeezed it.  “Come with me, Claire”, she smiled.

Ellen led Claire along a beautiful, wood-lined corridor decorated with family portraits and quietly opened a solid door.  Ellen entered first.  “Jamie”, she said quietly.  “It’s Ma.  I’ve brought someone to see ye.”

Claire could see a large wing chair facing out to overlook the grounds, it’s back facing her.  There was a hand hanging over one side, shaking randomly.  She and Ellen moved slowly to avoid shocking the owner of the hand.  Slowly, Jamie came into view.  Despite the blanket over his legs, there was a visible and marked tremor.  He had one hand moving constantly on his neck and the other hanging over the arm of the chair.  His eyes were still a stunning blue but lacked the sparkle she associated with Jamie. He had clearly lost weight and muscle tone.  She wasn’t sure how good his sight was, as he didn’t seem to focus on her or Ellen.  However, he clearly hadn’t lost his hearing:

“Jamie, it’s me - Claire. I thought you were dead. I came as soon as I found out you were alive”, she told him.

The hand on his neck twitched rapidly and his head turned towards her: “Sassenach!  Sassenach!”

“Yes, it’s Sassenach”.  She felt a tear falling down her cheek.  “ _Your_ Sassenach.”

He tried to move, but his legs wouldn’t support him.  She gently took the hand hanging over the edge of the chair.  It seemed that he tried to hold her hand but was unable.  She wanted to hug and kiss him, but Murtagh had warned her that he couldn’t bear to have anyone touch his face.  Instead, she lifted his hand to her face and squeezed and kissed it.

Claire looked to Ellen: “Would you mind if I just stay with Jamie for a while?  I’d like to observe him and see if I get any type of response.”

“Oh yes, Claire.  I’ll bring ye another cup of tea before too long.  Thank ye so much for coming.  It means so much to us.”  Ellen squeezed Claire’s shoulder and quietly left the room.

Claire sat with Jamie for several hours, with the occasional visit from each of the Frasers.  She jotted down several observations.  After that time, Murtagh sat with Jamie while Claire talked to Brian and Ellen.

“I know what you’re seeing with Jamie is alarming, but I’ve seen many soldiers with similar conditions.  I think we can help him, but it will take a long time and it’s difficult to know how well he’ll respond.  If you would like me to, I’d like to spend every day with him and see how it goes”, Claire told them.

Ellen shed a tear.  Brian took Claire by the hand and kissed her on the knuckles.  “Thank ye Claire.  And I’m so sorry ye were misled by Jenny.  What she did was cruel to ye and we still don’t really understand why she did it.”

Claire smiled.  “I’ve calmed down a bit since I first found out.  I’ll sit and talk to her about it some time soon, but not today.”

“She and Ian have gone to visit the Murrays.  They’re arranging their wedding.  It’ll be a small gathering with this war ‘n’ all.  They’ll be back in a few days, but Jenny knows she’s not to talk to ye until ye’re ready”, Ellen assured her.  “I’ll show ye yer room and give ye a tour.”

“Actually, I’d like to spend a few nights in Jamie’s room if that’s acceptable to you.  I want to see how much he sleeps – or doesn’t.  It might give me some indication of what troubles him most and when”, Claire told them.

“Ye’re a brave lass.  Nights can be terrible”, Brian told her.

“I know.  Especially for him”, Claire replied.

That night, Claire saw how frequently Jamie woke, alarmed and shouting.  She would turn on a small light and speak quietly until he settled, then cover his body again. She realised he would wake when he rolled onto his face.  There was something about his face that alarmed him.  After a few days and nights, she’d amended the schedule she and Joe had come up with and presented it to the Frasers.

“We start in earnest tomorrow.  I’ve come up with a daily schedule and I’d appreciate any help you can give me”, Claire said.

Brian, Ellen and Murtagh looked through the plan.  “This is mighty impressive, Claire.  It’s a lot of work.  Are ye sure?” Murtagh asked.

“It’s what you do for someone you love”, she smiled.  “And I love Jamie with all my heart.  Ellen, when are Jenny and Ian to marry?”

“In 3 or 4 months, I think”, Ellen replied

“The goal is to get Jamie there in a wheelchair”, Claire told them.  “He needs to feel like part of the world again.”

 

 

**Sick leave by Siegfried Sassoon**

When I’m asleep, dreaming and lulled and warm –

They come, the homeless ones, the noiseless dead.

While the dim charging breakers of the storm

Bellow and drone and rumble overhead,

Out of the gloom they gather about my bed.

They whisper to my heart; their thoughts are mine.

‘Why are you here with your watches ended?

From Ypres to Frise we sought you in the Line.’

In bitter safety I awake, unfriended;

And while the dawn begins with slashing rain

I think of the Battalion in the mud.

‘When are you going out to them again?

Are they not still your brothers through our blood?

 

Sassoon's poem expresses a damaged sense of honour as he reflects on his absence from the fighting. It’s also an indication that the expectation was that those who were sick were expected to return to the Front as soon as possible. (Sassoon was a patient at Craiglockhart officers’ hospital in Edinburgh but later returned to the Front.)  The traditional ideas of honour are that an officer or soldier should not ask others to do things that he would not do himself. Sassoon was awarded the Military Cross and threw it into the Mersey River in 1917.  It was retrieved years later.  
  
---


	14. Confessions of a sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire finally finds out what motivated Jenny to lie, leading her to believe Jamie was dead.
> 
> I may get another chapter on-line in time for Christmas, but if not I wish you all a very Happy Christmas. If you're looking for some lighter reading, you might like to read "White Christmas" which I wrote as part of the Outlander Christmas Prompt Exchange.

Claire’s programme for the first few weeks involved daily full body washing, checking for skin sores, massage, stretching exercises (in which Jamie would initially be passive), reading his favourite books to him, making sounds to see if he could repeat them and a range of other activities.  She and Ellen also amended his diet and would weigh his food. 

Claire and Ellen were making body length bolster cushions for Jamie when Jenny and Ian returned.  The tension between Jenny and Claire was palpable, and there was a tangible barrier in the room.  It was reminiscent of a tennis match, with opponents facing one another over a net, racquets in hand.  It was Ian who spoke first: “It’s wonderful ye came, Claire.  Jamie needs ye.  I think Jenny has something to say and I think ye all need to hear it.”

Jenny looked at Ian, alarm visible on her face.

“Do it, Janet”, Ian said firmly.  “Ye canna put it off.”

The gathering was called. Claire, Ellen, Brian, Murtagh, Jenny and Ian sat around the kitchen table.  Ellen had made tea for everyone and served it with biscuits, knowing that having a cup in their hands gave them something to grip.  This was going to be tense.

Jenny looked to Claire first, Ian holding her hand for reassurance.

“Claire, what I did to ye was cruel.  I feel ashamed and I hope that one day ye will forgive me, although I’d understand if ye didna.”  She paused.

“And?”, Brian said quietly.  His heart was breaking for his daughter, but also for Claire.

Jenny took a deep breath: “When Ian was in the hospital in Southampton, I saw and heard some dreadful things.  We had seen some shell shock in La Feuillee but nothing like the number of men at Netley Hospital.  Everyone showed sympathy to Ian, losing his leg.  They could see why he had been sent home, but I saw the cruelty to the victims of shell shock.  I couldna believe it.”  She began to cry, and Ian squeezed her hand.

“They were called cowards, told they were weak minded, they were given electric shock treatment and I could hear their screams.  Some of them looked like mad men.  Even worse, I heard stories of some shell-shocked soldiers who were shot dead by their own side after being charged with cowardice.  I know some of the men they were treating were being sent back to the Front despite their condition, and I knew they’d never survive.  It was cruel.  These poor souls were being sent to their death.”

She paused to sip her tea.  It would have been possible to hear a pin drop.

“When I saw Jamie, I thought of all those men and I feared for him.  I knew there was no way Jamie would survive if he were sent back.  He’s my brother, it’s my job to protect him.”

Claire said in a gentle voice: “But Jenny, why lie to me?  Surely you know I would have come straight back to Blighty to help Jamie?”

Jenny finally looked directly at Claire, barely able to maintain her composure: “Aye, and having worked with ye and knowing how much Jamie loves ye, I knew that if there was anyone who could help it would be ye.  But I also knew that if ye got Jamie back he could be sent back to the Front and he would die.  I couldna risk it.  I never told ye all before, but Jamie received some white feathers in the post.  I always handle the post, so I threw the away.  I also threw away letters from Mary and Louise telling me how devastated Claire was.  When Ian found out, I thought he might kill me.  Sitting here admitting to what I’ve done, I wish he had.”

After a short silence, Claire stood up and walked over to Jenny.  “Stand up so I can hug you”, Claire told her.  Those in the room looked on in amazement. The two women held one another as the family looked on.  “I wish you’d told me all this before, Jenny.  It would have been better for both of us and Jamie.  I do understand what you have said.  I have seen and heard for myself the warped views of people in the community who have no idea how awful it is, who think these men are cowards, lazy or deserters.”

Claire looked to the Fraser family: “I do understand what Jenny has told us, and to some extent I believe she’s right.  She shouldn’t have lied to me, and it will be a long time before I can fully forgive her for that.  But she can’t take that back now and we must all learn to live with it. I also believe that the real Jamie, the Jamie we all love, is still in there and we must help him get out of his prison.  I’m counting on all of you to help me do that, including you Jenny.  If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to return to Jamie.”  She left the room.

The family looked at one another in silence, until Murtagh smiled: “Well, Jamie has found himself a remarkable lass.  I’ll be doing whatever she asks of me.”

Ellen laughed: “I think we all will be, Murtagh.  I already love Claire as if she were my own, but I dinna want to get on the wrong side of her!  She’s a strong lass. Jamie chose well.”

Ellen rose and hugged Jenny.  “That must have been very difficult.  I think ye were wrong, but I ken yer reasons.  Claire wants to get Jamie to yer wedding in a wheelchair and I canna wait to see it.  Ye were right when ye said if there was anyone who could help Jamie, it would be Claire.”

Ian breathed a sigh of relief.  He knew Jenny had had sleepless nights about revealing her reasons for misleading Claire and was relieved it was over.  He turned to Murtagh and asked him: “Did ye ask Claire why Jamie keeps calling out “Sassenach” and “Crete”?”

“I did.  I’ll let her tell ye herself, if she so chooses.  I think ye should hear it from her.  Ye’ll enjoy her explanation”, Murtagh told him with a wink.

Everyone went back to their business and reflected on what they had heard.  When they were alone, Brian put his arm around Ellen: “Ye know, I’m very grateful to Claire for being so magnanimous with Jenny.  If I’d been forced to make a choice, it wouldna been Claire I would have asked to leave.  What that lass is doing with Jamie warms my heart, and I thought it’d been broken forever when I saw the state of the lad.”  Ellen smiled and kissed his cheek: “Aye, she’s a generous woman.”

Jenny, keen to make recompense for what she had done, worked with Ellen to finish off the bolsters for Jamie before they went to bed that night.  Claire wanted to be sure that they were available to prevent Jamie rolling face down on the bed while he slept and when she was washing him.  She had yet to find out why the face-down position alarmed him so much, but it clearly did.

The following morning, Jamie woke looking alarmed, so she had sat him up in the bed with support pillows and was feeding him porridge for breakfast.  Some things were sacrosanct in the Fraser household, and “parritch” was one of them.  She talked quietly to him as he ate, telling him her plans for the day.  He couldn’t reply, but she wanted to increase his social contact and she was confident he could hear her.  She thought she saw a slight grin when she told him she was going to give him a full body massage, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

When breakfast was eaten, she warmed a bowl of water and prepared some warmed towels for Jamie’s wash.  Knowing he disliked his face being touched, she started with his legs, bending them at the knees and washing.  As she began washing his groin area, he called out: “Sassenach!  Crete!”

She laughed.  “Now I know you’re in there Jamie Fraser.”  His hand flailed, then he grabbed her arm.  “And yes, Jamie.  I do love you.”  She kissed his hand and detected the slightest smirk on his face.  Day 1 of her programme continued as planned, and at the end of it both she and Jamie were exhausted.

That night, she placed a bolster on each side of Jamie and covered him.  She sat with him, reading _The Water Babies_ by Charles Kingsley.  She felt it was appropriate – just as Tom, the child chimney sweep, had been forced to climb into sooty chimneys, Jamie had been forced into a dark internal prison.  As Jamie dozed off, she held his hand, then she quietly readied herself to sleep on the bed nearby.

 

 

 

> British private Thomas Baker struggled to get people to understand the realities of war.
> 
> _People wanted to know, you know, what it was like because I was the first casualty in our village. I was the first one, and I was wounded on May the 3rd. And I happened to be the very first casualty, so of course it all went round and everybody I met wanted to know what it was like. And I told them it was some kind of hell. Which it was._   _And it was impossible to tell them really just how it was. You told them the story of how men were at one moment were alive, and the next moment they were dead. You know, it was just like that. People didn’t seem to realise, you know, what a terrible thing war was, they didn’t. You couldn’t convey the awful state of things where you lived like animals and behaved like animals. They just didn’t understand it…_
> 
> From **_Voices of the First World War_** _,_ a podcast series that reveals the impact the war had on everyone who lived through it through the stories of the men and women who were there. (Imperial War Museum)

 

 


	15. Can you remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve: time for one last chapter.
> 
> See you in 2019.

Over the next weeks, Claire’s programme was followed carefully.  Jamie obviously enjoyed the full body massages, making pleasured sounds which amused Claire.  A few times he had pushed her hands back to areas where he clearly relished her contact and she would laugh: “I know exactly what you’re doing Jamie.”

As his muscles relaxed, Claire was able to extend his limbs further and he slowly began to contribute to the exercises.  It was slow work, and the improvements were slight each day, but he was gradually regaining some muscle tone and movement.  Claire would passively move each limb at several joints to get a feeling for any resistance or rigidity that may be present, and that rigidity was steadily reducing.

Claire would check for “ _drift”_ by having Jamie hold up both arms and close his eyes.  At first, his arms would flail around, seemingly having no control whatever, but as his muscles improved, he was able to hold them _relatively_ still.

Ellen would bring Claire cups of tea, lunch and home-baked treats.  While she ate them, Ellen would feed Jamie.  Ellen found Jamie would eat better if he could see Claire, so she would sit close by and they would talk to one another and to him. 

“When ye laugh his eyes are drawn to ye, Claire.  It’s wonderful, even if it does mean his food misses his mouth”, Ellen observed with a grin.

Afternoons were spent with Jamie working on the phonetic alphabet, which he found difficult.  Some days were better than others.  When he became tired, Brian or Murtagh would read to him from his favourite books.  After a while, he would often drift off to sleep and one of them would stay with him while Claire had a walk.  She needed to look after her own body too.

It was during one of those afternoon walks that Ian caught up with her near the stables.  There was still a mild feeling of friction between her and Jenny, and Ian wanted to see if he could pour oil on troubled waters.  He began by asking questions about Jamie’s progress, then quickly moved on.

“Did Jamie ever tell ye of his brother Willie, Claire?”, Ian asked.

“Not really.  I understand he’s no longer with us”, she replied.

“It was a dreadful time for the whole family.  The lad was so sick, but for some reason Jamie always blamed himself for Willie’s death.  Nobody understood it.  There was nought Jamie could’ve done to save him”, Ian explained.

“Do you think Jamie felt guilty that he’d survived when Willie hadn’t?”, Claire suggested.

“Aye.  That could well be the case.  It’s certainly true of war too, is it not?”

“Definitely.  It’s been seen in so many cases of shell shock”, Claire agreed.

“Actually, now that you mention it – I assume Rupert and Angus both died as I’ve heard no mention of them”, she said.

“Angus did die, but Rupert survived.  He came home at the same time as Jamie, but he’d lost an arm.  He lives in the next valley but is pretty much a hermit these days.  I havena seen him for months”, Ian answered.

“Do you think he’d speak to me?”, Claire asked.

“Ye could try, but dinna be surprised if he gives ye short shrift.  He can get as mad as a hornet without cause since he came back from Ypres.  He was always a funny lad, but he’s an angry man these days.  I miss him”, Ian shrugged.  “And I think he misses Angus.  They were joined at the hip as lads.”

Claire faced Ian: “Would you come with me to see Rupert, Ian.  I think it would be good to talk to him about Angus and Jamie.”

Ian rubbed his hands together and looked sideways at Claire: “Be prepared to be bellowed at if ye try that”, he warned.  “But aye, I’ll come with ye if ye think it might help Jamie – and Rupert for that matter.  We might need to be prepared for a hasty escape though, ye ken?”

“I definitely ken”, Claire smiled.

Three days later, Murtagh readied a horse and trap and insisted on escorting Claire and Ian to Rupert’s cottage.  When they arrived, they could see no sign of life, but within moments they heard someone cussing as they split wood behind the cottage.  Murtagh braved the blaspheming Rupert, letting himself through the side gate.  Ian had already talked to Jenny about inviting Rupert to their wedding as a way of explaining their visit.  Claire would also tell him she had wanted to see him again.

Rupert begrudgingly invited them in for a wee dram, while Murtagh stacked the split wood.

Ian invited Rupert to the wedding, and was greeted by a grumpy “I dinna want to see people who’ll think me a cripple.”

He was a little more pleasant with Claire, but shocked that she believed she could help Jamie.  “The lad’ll never be the same again, Claire.  Dinna fash yerself.  Move on.”

Claire chose to ignore Rupert’s comment.

“You came home with Jamie – from Ypres, I understand.  You must have been glad to get away, surely?  How were you and Jamie when you left?”, Claire asked.

“How were we?  We were filthy, lice-ridden, hungry, bedraggled men who were losing our minds.  We were shadows, still are.  We’d seen things no man or woman should ever see.  Ye can’t leave that behind on the battlefield.  The Australians and I had dug Jamie out of a trench just in time for me to take shrapnel in the arm.  Angus is still in that trench, ye ken.  Jamie had been trying to get him out and got buried himself”.  Rupert knocked back his dram and poured another.  “I dinna remember the fine detail.  For a while I tried, but then I thought it could make it worse.  I wake at night with sweats, but I canna remember what woke me.”

Claire put her hand on Rupert’s remaining arm: “Have you ever had hypnosis to help you get rid of those memories?”

“Nah, I don’t see the point, Claire.  Why would I put myself through that?”, he said dismissing the idea.

“I have a friend who does hypnosis.  He has told me that once people can get the memories out, they can begin to be rid of them.  A bit like finding the rubbish so you can throw it away before it smells.”  She wasn’t sure it was a good analogy, but she hoped he would take the point.  “If I could arrange it, would you try it?”

“Let me think on it, Claire.”

“That’s a good idea”, she replied.  “I’ll come back in a few weeks.”

Eventually, the three visitors left Rupert to return to Lallybroch.  Claire promised to return in a few weeks with a cake and some treats, making it more difficult for Rupert to refuse.  He was living a very basic and lonely life without luxuries.

When she returned to Jamie, he was restless.

“He’s missed ye I think Claire.  He was trying to move and look around, saying Sassenach.  He may need some soothing,” Ellen told her.  “I’ll help Mrs Crook wi’ the evening meal now ye’re home.”  Ellen left them alone.

Claire knew a massage always settled Jamie down.  She worked on his shoulders and arms, then she lifted the blankets from his legs and worked on his calves and thighs.  After a while, as she leaned over Jamie, his hand found its way to her breasts and his eyes met hers.  He hadn’t looked at her so intently since she’d come to Lallybroch, but now he was looking longingly.  She undid the buttons on her blouse and laid his hand on her bare breast.  He gently, if a little clumsily, stroked her breast and she saw a single tear fall slowly down his cheek.

“We will be happy again Jamie, and we will make love.  I will never give up on you.  I love you more than anyone else in this world” she told him.  She saw a real smile on his face.  It was worth all the work, but she wanted more, and she knew he did to.  She desperately wanted to kiss him, but until she could find out why he was so sensitive to his face being touched, she kissed his chest, hands and arms.  He finally relaxed.  She sat beside him and laid her head on his chest.  He moved his arm across her.  The therapy was working.

 

**Can You Remember? By Edmund Blunden**

  
Yes, I still remember  
The whole thing in a way;  
Edge and exactitude   
Depend on the day.  
  
Of all that prodigious scene  
There seems scanty loss,  
Though mists mainly float and screen  
Canal, spire and fosse;  
  
Though commonly I fail to name  
That once obvious Hill,  
And where we went and whence we came  
To be killed, or kill.  
Those mists are spiritual   
And luminous-obscure,  
Evolved of countless circumstance  
Of which I am sure;  
  
Of which, at the instance  
Of sound, smell, change and stir,  
New-old shapes for ever   
Intensely recur.

And some are sparkling, laughing, singing,  
Young, heroic, mild;  
And some incurable, twisted,  
Shrieking, dumb, defiled.


	16. The Repression of War Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't intended posting until the New Year, but after two days of 40 degrees or more this chapter is ready!
> 
> Claire's persistence pays off when the circumstances of Angus' death are revealed.
> 
> Dr W H R Rivers, who is mentioned in this chapter and featured in the collage, was a doctor at Craiglockhart Hospital in Edinburgh. The hospital catered for officers suffering from shell shock. Rivers was a ground-breaking physician who recognised and treated the psychological conditions associated with the traumas of war.

Day after day, Claire worked with Jamie with the help of Ellen, Brian and Murtagh.  Jenny tended to do things which helped – cooking, sewing, cleaning, washing – but kept a physical distance from Claire.  Ian was acting as a medium. 

There was a eureka moment when Jamie held Claire’s hands and he managed to sit up with minimal help.  The spontaneous hug they shared was the icing on the cake.  Ellen called everyone to see, hoping Jamie could do it again.  Brian, Ian and Murtagh were elated when they witnessed it themselves.  Claire looked up and saw Jenny standing in the doorway, looking at a distance.

“Come in Jenny.  You need to share this moment”, Claire told her.  The invitation was a circuit breaker and from that moment on the tension began to dispel.  Jenny had done her penance.

Jamie’s ability to sit up more independently was a major step.  Now Claire would work on strengthening his legs so that he could stand.  Walking was a longer-term proposition, but the aim was to get him sitting in a wheelchair for Jenny’s wedding.  Claire was working hard on Jamie’s legs one morning when Ellen arrived with a measuring tape.  She wanted to measure Claire for a new dress and Jamie for a shirt and kilt.

“I have some money to pay for my dress”, Claire told Ellen.

“Nonsense!”, Ellen responded.  “After all the work ye’ve done with Jamie, this is my and Brian’s way of thanking ye. I canna wait to see ye both spruced up on the day.”

“I’m going to try getting Jamie into the wheelchair this afternoon.  I might need some help getting him in situ, do you think Brian or Murtagh could help?”, Claire asked.

“Both of them will be here, Claire.  They canna wait to see it, and neither can I”, Ellen smiled.

After lunch, Claire helped Jamie sit up and then shuffle him forward.  Brian held one side of Jamie and Claire the other while Murtagh manoeuvred the wheelchair into position.  When Jamie sat in the chair and they lifted his feet on to the supports, there was a round of applause and cheers.

“Let’s take him for a walk around the grounds”, Ellen suggested. 

As they pushed Jamie through the side door and into the garden, Jamie took a deep breath and smiled.  It was the first time he’d been mobile and outside the house for months, and a major step in his rehabilitation.  He also went into the kitchen to show an excited Mrs Crook.  She served tea and cake, hugging Jamie in delight. 

Claire eventually returned a tired Jamie to his room.  When she leaned forward to help him out of the chair, he held her in his arms and for the first time told her: “I love ye Sassenach.”  Four words.  Claire was overwhelmed and without thinking threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.  His cry of alarm startled her, and she pulled away quickly.

“I’m so sorry Jamie.  I was so excited, I didn’t think”, Claire cried.

As Jamie slowly settled down, she sat next to him holding his hand.  Eventually, he looked at her and said: “Angus is dead”.

“Yes, he is Jamie.  Rupert told me you tried to save him.  His death wasn’t your fault and you were brave to try to save him”, Claire told him.

Jamie shook his head, seemingly in disagreement.  Maybe Angus and the circumstances of his death were part of what was haunting Jamie, Claire thought.  She would contact Joe for ideas and see if she could encourage Rupert to undergo hypnosis.  Mrs Crook agreed to make up a basket of her favourite cakes and preserves to encourage Rupert’s cooperation: “I know Rupert and the way to his brain is through his stomach”, she winked.

The next day, Claire and Murtagh headed back to Rupert’s cottage in the trap, laden with the goodies supplied by Mrs Crook.  Rupert was a little more receptive on this visit, possibly when he saw the cake and jam.  He brewed a cup of tea and they ate and drank together.

“Did you have time to consider undergoing hypnosis?”, Claire eventually asked him.

“Aye.  I’ll give it a try if ye think it’ll help, but I’m no’ so hopeful.  If it meant I could get a decent sleep it’d be worth it”, Rupert told her.

“I’ll set it up and come with you, Rupert.  I don’t think ye’ll regret it”, she smiled.

Joe had written back suggesting she contact Dr Rivers at Craiglockhart in Edinburgh.  If he couldn’t help, he might be able to recommend someone else.  Claire wrote a detailed letter to Dr Rivers and anxiously awaited his reply.  She was delighted when he agreed to see Rupert and suggested a time.  She checked with Rupert, replied that they would be there and asked Brian and Murtagh to help with transport.  The following week, she was sitting in the corner of Dr Rivers’ study while Rupert underwent hypnosis.  It was fascinating.

Dr Rivers took Rupert back to the time in Ypres, and Rupert was intent on revealing the circumstances of Angus’ death.  Clearly it had been preying on his mind.  Rupert was animated in his description of what occurred, and Claire had to remain quiet and wipe the tears from her eyes as he effectively re-enacted the minutes leading up to Angus’ death.  There were soldiers still in the trench when a German tank attacked, pushing the mound of earth in front of the trench on to the soldiers beneath.  Angus and others saw what was happening and ran to help their comrades.  Rupert saw as Angus was shot in the chest and fell into the trench.  Jamie was running in, trying to free Angus from the earth descending on to him.  Jamie was buried with Angus.  Rupert and some of the Australians ran back to the point at which they’d last seen Jamie.  Rupert was hit by shrapnel and guided away by other soldiers while the Australians dug Jamie out with their bare hands.  When they found him, he was face down on Angus who was clearly dead.  They dragged a screaming Jamie away.  Rupert described the anguish Jamie suffered.  He was convinced Angus was still alive and that he had failed to save him. Rupert described the physical and emotional stress Jamie experienced.

Dr Rivers brought Rupert back to the current time slowly.  Rupert was exhausted but interested to talk about what had been revealed. 

“Angus was shot?  I didna recall that.  So, he was already dead when he was buried?”, an astonished Rupert said.

“It’s quite normal for soldiers to suppress some memories, particularly when they were injured themselves as you were.  They create an account which is not always accurate, but hypnosis helps in recalling the events as they actually were.  Angus wasn’t buried alive.  He was shot and dead.  There was nothing you, Jamie or the other men could have done to save him”, Dr Rivers told them.

Rupert cried: “I miss Angus sae much.  He could be a right bastard at times, but we’d been mates since we were bairns and it was like I’d lost both arms.  But I’m happy to know that he wasna buried alive.  That’s haunted me.”  He turned to Claire: “And I reckon it’s haunted Jamie too, Claire.”

Claire encouraged Rupert to return to Lallybroch with her and Brian.  He was emotional, but she also felt that the circumstances revealed by the hypnosis should be recounted to Jamie – preferably by Rupert.  Jamie sat up and listened to what Rupert had to tell him.  He was visibly emotional, and the tears flowed as he sought confirmation from Rupert: “Angus was shot? Angus was dead?”

“Aye, there was nothing ye could have done Jamie”, Rupert told him.  “He was killed by a bullet before he was buried.”

Later that evening, after he had eaten with the Frasers, Rupert returned to his cottage with Claire and Murtagh.  As Claire bade him farewell, Rupert hugged her:

“I feel a load has been taken from me, Claire.  Night after night I would see Angus struggling to get out of that trench, but now I know he was already dead.  I’m glad you talked me into going to see Dr Rivers.  I hope it can help Jamie too.”

“Thank you, Rupert.  Now, you are coming to Ian and Jenny’s wedding?” she checked.

“Aye.  I dinna want to miss a happy day and if Jamie can be there in a wheelchair, I want to see it for myself”.

She kissed Rupert on the cheek and she and Murtagh left.  Rupert later reported that his sleep improved.

 

> #  **W H R Rivers on the treatment of shell shock,** ** _'An Address on the Repression of War Experience_** **'** **from _The Lancet, February 1918_**
> 
>  
> 
> #  _“It is as if the process of repression keeps the painful memories or thoughts under a kind of pressure during the day, accumulating such energy by night that they race through the mind with abnormal speed and violence when the patient is wakeful, or take the most vivid and painful forms when expressed by the imagery of dreams.”_


	17. The hell where youth and laughter go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the joys of writing this story has been the interest expressed in this period of history. Even more wonderful has been the input from readers. Thus far I have received numerous suggestions and ideas: lesser known World War 1 poets, the role of wagoners (ambulance drivers), developments in medical technology during and after the war, the names of doctors and hospitals which provided shell shock treatment, authors of books on the Great War, names of movies and YouTube videos to watch and so on.
> 
> This chapter includes an idea from @Callysymms26 – hydrotherapy. After her suggestion, I looked into the use of hydrotherapy at the beginning of the 20th century and found it had been used at a number of institutions, including the London Asylum, and was specifically recommended for shell shock in the 1922 Report of the War Office Committee of Enquiry into Shell Shock. As Australians say, ‘Onya Cally’.

As the time of Jenny and Ian’s wedding drew closer, the Murrays suggested the wedding be at Lallybroch.  It would be easier for Jamie and it was only to be a small affair with family and a few friends.  Ian wanted Jamie to be best man, and Claire’s mission was to make him as comfortable as possible.

Jamie was able to move into the wheelchair with a little more ease after daily practice.  He was unable to stumble for more than a few steps, but his general mobility was improving.  He was more cheerful and cheeky, pinching Claire’s arse and pulling her towards him.  For Claire, the most wonderful development was that Jamie now kissed her occasionally.  The kisses were still tentative, but it was an indication he was less concerned about his face.  He was unashamedly aroused by her touch too.

There was a morning when Brian, Ellen and Murtagh had left them alone while they went to collect some items for the wedding.  Jenny and Ian were at the Murrays.  As usual, Claire was massaging Jamie after breakfast.  As Claire worked up from his feet to his thighs, Jamie was making what she referred to as his “Paris noises” – sounds of delight at her touch.  When she approached his groin, Jamie held her hand and looked at her with longing: “Sassenach, love me.  Like Paris.  Please.”

Claire could see that he was aroused: “Are you sure?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head: “Please. Sassenach” he pleaded.

She slipped off her clothes and lay under the bedding with him, both of them naked.  She moved her hand towards his aroused penis and he jumped at her touch.  Then she leaned down and held his length gently in her hand. “Oh God!” Jamie cried.  Her lips enveloped the head of his erect penis while her hand worked its magic.  Jamie was holding her hair and gasping loudly.  When he finally came, his body shuddered, and it was several minutes before he stopped panting and opened his eyes.  His eyes were the same lively blue she had seen in Paris as he looked at her in wonder.  They lay together, Jamie fondling her breasts and Claire kissing his chest.  The feeling of being skin on skin was exhilarating.

“Claire, I love ye”, he smiled.

From that day on, Jamie craved Claire’s undivided attention.  He ached for her touch and pulled her down on top of him whenever possible.  Claire was longing for the day they could marry and make love, yet she knew that Jamie’s rehabilitation was far from complete.

She remained in regular contact with Joe, who sent her updates on shell shock recovery techniques.  Today’s letter was a total surprise.  Joe was taking some time off and was travelling to Edinburgh to see some of the initiatives being undertaken by Dr Rivers at Craiglockhart.  He planned to stay over for three extra days, five days in total, so he could spend time with her and Jamie, showing them how hydrotherapy could help Jamie regain strength in his legs.  He had been in touch with the Turkish Baths in Edinburgh to be sure they could cater for them.  He sent Claire a list of things they would need to bring, and accommodation suggested by the baths.

Claire was quick to consult with Murtagh, Brian and Ellen as she would need their help in organising transport to and from Edinburgh, including Jamie’s wheelchair.  It was agreed that Murtagh would accompany Claire and Jamie, while Brian and Ellen remained at Lallybroch to keep things running and to help Jenny with wedding plans.  Claire wrote to Joe and let him know what was happening, and that Brian had arranged to rent a sizeable house close to the baths where they could all stay.

Three weeks later, Claire, Murtagh and Jamie in his wheelchair were waiting at the station for Joe to arrive.  As Joe approached, Claire could see someone was walking with him – Uncle Lamb.  Murtagh held the wheelchair as Claire ran to greet them.  She walked between them, arm in arm, and excitedly introduced them to Jamie.  They strolled to the rented house and made themselves comfortable, catching up on the latest happenings in their lives.

In her letters to Lamb, Claire had told him of Jamie’s interest in classical history and archaeology, and Lamb had brought with him a small collection of interesting artefacts.  He had worked with American archaeologist Harriet Boyd and her colleague Blanche Wheeler in Gournia and the artefacts were some of their finds.  Claire smiled as Lamb talked: “All of these artefacts are from our trip to Crete, aren’t they Lamb?”

“Yes.  And I’ve been invited to return when this war is over.  I can take a few helpers with me.  If we can get Jamie walking and more confident, he could come with you Claire”, Lamb smiled looking at both of them.

Jamie had been listening to all they had been saying, his ears pricking up at the mention of Crete.

“Did you hear that Jamie?”, Claire asked.  “We can travel to Crete after the war.  I’m sure we could find a few nice beaches”, she winked and watched as Murtagh chuckled.

“Well, that makes our work even more important”, Joe chimed in.

“We’ve been working on other approaches to the management of shell shock, viewed as equally if not more effective than approaches based on discipline, hypnosis, or re-experiencing. These include approaches based primarily on rest and less intrusive forms of therapy. At the Richmond War Hospital in Ireland they have focused on the provision of rest and quietude - hot and cold baths, and a certain amount of pain-relieving medication. That can include coffee, it seems.  At the Edinburgh baths we can trial continuous baths which consists of fresh, hot water constantly being poured into the tub, while the old water is drained. This maintains a consistent temperature for the span of the treatment. A canvas sheet, with a hole for the patient's head, covers the tub, while the patient lay inside the tub in a hammock.” 

 

There were some sceptical looks on the faces of those listening.  Joe smiled:

 

“After a few days of that, we can try getting Jamie into the Turkish Baths with two of us holding him while he stretches, exercises and kicks his legs gently.  The very warm water relaxes his muscles and supports him.  It’s nice for the helpers too.”

 

Jamie preferred the sound of that.  And he approved of a trip to Crete, particularly if some nice beaches could be found.  Claire thought he hadn’t worn such a broad smile in a long time.

 

The next five days were busy.  Everyone took turns in supporting Jamie, while others arranged meals, coffee for Jamie, tea for the rest of them and transport.  By the end of the five days, Jamie’s legs were definitely improving, and Joe ran through some daily exercises Claire and Murtagh could encourage him to do on their return to Lallybroch. 

 

As Murtagh and Jamie waved farewell at the station, Lamb and Joe moved towards the train to travel south.  Just before she let go of their arms, Claire shed a few tears and told them both:

 

“You two are the best.  Lamb, you have been there for me almost all my life, and Joe you are the best friend a person could have.  I’m a lucky girl.”

 

Lamb kissed her: “Claire, you reap what you sow.  You gave so much to so many at La Feuillee and now Jamie is the lucky one to receive your love.”

 

Joe added: “I knew the day I met you we were going to be best friends for life, Lady Jane.  I was right.  Visit soon, LJ.  I’ll keep an eye on Lamb for you.”

 

_You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye_

_Who cheer when soldier lads march by,_

_Sneak home and pray you’ll never know_

_The hell where youth and laughter go._

**_From 'Suicide in the Trenches' by Siegfried Sassoon_ **


	18. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earlier this week the temperature reached 44 degrees, so writing was preferable to running a marathon (which I wouldn't have done anyway).
> 
> In this chapter, Jamie takes some important steps.

On their return to Lallybroch, Claire ticked off the days.  She had been working with Jamie for 110 days.  Rupert’s revelations and Joe’s hydrotherapy sessions had really sped up the process of rehabilitation and she was feeling optimistic.

 

Murtagh wasted no time in preparing a walking bar – like a ballet barre – for Jamie.  Joe had suggested Jamie walk forward, backward and sideways using the bar for support.  He could also use it to support him when he was ready to do gentle squats and kick exercises.  These exercises were hard work for Jamie, so Claire would encourage him in any way possible – kissing after five steps and fondling of her breasts after ten steps were particularly motivating.  In fact, anything involving intimacy motivated Jamie.

 

Massage time remained Jamie’s favourite.  He was becoming increasingly amorous and begging Claire to fondle him:  “Please Sassenach.  Love me.” She decided she would speak to Brian and Ellen after Ian and Jenny’s wedding, particularly after a night two weeks after the trip to Edinburgh and two weeks before Jenny and Ian’s wedding was scheduled to take place.

 

Jamie’s night terrors had been less frequent for a while, but they still occurred, so Claire slept in the corner of Jamie’s room.  On that night, she was fast asleep until she felt the bedclothes pulled back and the mattress drop under the weight of Jamie’s body.  Jamie had managed to get out of his bed and struggle across to Claire’s bed. She was amazed he had succeeded. It was an unusually warm night and both of them were wearing very little.  Jamie was desperate to feel her body.  His hands seemed to be everywhere, and she was gasping as he caressed her, pulled her nightie up and moved his fingers between her legs.  For the first time since she had come to Lallybroch, Jamie was kissing her passionately.  She was dizzy with excitement when Jamie found her clitoris and gently rubbed it with his thumb.

 

“Christ, Jamie.  Don’t stop, please don’t stop”, she whispered.

 

“I want ye, Claire.  Love me.  Please love me”, Jamie cried in her ear.  He tried to roll over her, but his legs were still too weak.  Claire, aroused and desperate to make love to him, rolled over him with her knees astride his hips, and slowly guided him into her.  She knew it would be likely to hurt, but she no longer cared.  She moved down gently and squealed, but gradually felt the bliss of having him inside her, looking down to see the joy he wore across his face.  His hands were on her hips, supporting and lifting her as she rode him to the gates of heaven.  When his seed rushed into her, they were in one another’s arms, crying from the release they had both been longing for.

 

“Sassenach, so wonderful”, Jamie gasped.

 

Claire was still looking down on him, not wanting the moment to end.  He had never looked, and she had never felt, happier.  Eventually, she lifted herself and grabbed a piece of clothing to catch the results of their love making.  Her head was still spinning, and she showered Jamie’s body with frenzied kisses: “Oh God, Jamie.  I’ve wanted you for so long.  I couldn’t wait any more.  Did we do the wrong thing?  Should we have waited?”

 

“No.  Needed ye.  Ye were wonderful.  So happy”, he smiled.  Claire laid next to him.  It was too small a bed for both of them, but Claire laid in Jamie’s arms and fell into a stupor.  Jamie was exhausted and fell asleep with a smile across his face.

 

The next morning, Ellen peeked into the room to see if they were ready for breakfast.  They were still wrapped in one another’s arms and fast asleep.  Part of Ellen was shocked, but she smiled, nevertheless.  It had been inevitable that these two young people who loved one another so much would consummate their relationship.  She would have preferred it be after their wedding, but now that wedding would need to be sooner than she expected.  And it was confirmation that Jamie was stronger and happier than he’d been in a very long time.  Having seen her son so lost before Claire came back into his life, she could only be thankful that Claire’s love had brought him back from the brink. 

 

Ellen crept towards the kitchen, where Brian and Murtagh were eating.

 

“Are Jamie and Claire awake?  Do you want me to take them some breakfast?”, Brian asked as he rose from his chair.

 

“No!”  Ellen told him as she placed her hand on his shoulder.  “They’re both asleep.  Don’t wake them Brian, I think they’ve had a hard night.”  Ellen’s face revealed everything.  No words were required when non-verbal communication was so effective. 

 

As Brian smiled, Murtagh grabbed a spoon of the excess porridge: “So, we’ll keep the wedding decorations up for Jamie and Claire, aye?  Better write to Lambert and Joe to check if the date suits.  Jamie canna wait to call Claire his wife.  Thank God she came into his life when she did.”

 

That evening, after a day of exercises and a meal with the family, Claire was reading to Jamie when Jenny and Ian knocked on the door and entered the room.

 

“Claire, Jamie – could Ian and I have a word with ye?”, Jenny asked.

 

“Of course, pull up the chairs by the wall”, Claire replied.

 

Ian sat and began the conversation: “Jamie, ye know I want ye to be my best man, don’t ye?”  Jamie nodded proudly: “Aye, I do.  Best friends.”

 

Ian continued: “Well, Jenny and I have been talking and we would like to know if ye and Claire want to marry on the same day as us, provided of course that Lamb and Joe can make it on that day”, he said looking towards Claire.

 

“Oh Ian, Jenny – that’s very kind, but it’s _your_ day”, Claire told them.

 

It was Jenny who spoke next: “Claire, I owe ye a debt of gratitude.  What ye have done for Jamie is remarkable, particularly after I lied to ye.  I would consider it a privilege to share the day with ye and my brother.”

 

“Lied?”, Jamie interjected.  He hadn’t been told of the letter to Claire indicating that he was dead.

 

“Brother, I think I should explain to ye”, Jenny said.  She told him exactly what she had told Claire.  At one point, he looked like he would have hit Jenny if he could reach her, and Claire reached to him and took his hand.  He relaxed a little when Jenny explained _why_ she had lied.

 

“I think it would be best if I talked to Jamie about this tonight and gave you both an answer in the morning.  Is that alright?”, Claire told them.

 

“Aye,” Ian said.  He took Jenny by the hand and Claire left the room with them.

 

“That’s a lot for Jamie to take on board”, Claire told them.  “I’m 99% sure the answer will be yes.  Bless you both. We’ll talk tomorrow.”  Claire kissed them both on the cheek and returned to Jamie.

 

As she approached the wing chair, she heard Jamie crying.  She took him in her arms and kissed him: “Jamie, what is it?”

 

“I was dead to ye. I could’ve lost ye.  Ye could’ve met someone else.  I might’ve died without ye”, he sobbed.

 

“No Jamie.  Even when I thought you were dead; my heart was still yours.  I have been yours since that first day at La Feuillee.  We were born to be together.  When Murtagh came to tell me you were alive, I was on my way to you the next day”, Claire reassured him.

 

“How can ye have me like this?”, he asked tearfully.

 

“Jamie Fraser, I will have you any way I can”, she replied kissing him.  “Now, do you want to marry me?”

 

“So much, Sassenach”.

 

“We can sleep together every night then, naked if you’d like.  You can feel my breasts all the time, and I can do indecent things to you every day”, she laughed.  “How does that sound?”

 

“I canna wait”, Jamie laughed through his tears.

 

As Jamie calmed down, Claire took her much-loved biscuit tin from her bag.  She showed him the letters she had kept and the hand-fasting ribbons from their special day in La Feuillee: “Soon I’ll be able to say my husband gave me these.  The only man I’ve ever loved.”  She squeezed his hand and he pulled her towards him.

 

“Last night was heaven”, he told her with a twinkle in his eye.

 

“Soon every night will be heaven for Mr and Mrs Jamie Fraser”, she replied.

 

_Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life._    
 _ **[The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1231363)**_


	19. In sickness and in health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weddings at Lallybroch as the Frasers finally celebrate.
> 
> (For those of you who enjoy 18th century Outlander fanfic, I posted the first chapter of a new story yesterday: Fort Augustus)

 

When she had measured Claire and Jamie for the outfits she had arranged to have made, Ellen hadn’t predicted that they would be wearing them for their own wedding. However, the outfits proved to be ideal for their purpose.  In truth, neither of them was too concerned about what they would be wearing; they just wanted to be married.  Claire’s efforts to make Jamie comfortable in a wheelchair now meant he could be the groom in his own wedding, _and_ the best man in Ian and Jenny’s.

Lamb and Joe had travelled north to Scotland again, Lamb to give Claire away and Joe to support both Claire and her uncle, who had become a close friend.  The small wedding had one guest who was a surprise to Claire.  Mary McNab, her friend from La Feuillee, had been contacted by the Murrays and travelled to Lallybroch with them.  Mary and Louise had been like sisters to Claire whilst in France, and to have one of them at her wedding was a wonderful surprise.  Louise was still in France, but Mary was able to tell Claire about the changes at the camp after she left.  Denzell and Rachel had left France, were working at separate hospitals in England and hoped to move to America when the war was over.  Louise had married a French pilot and was living in Paris.  Her husband had been injured and she was nursing him back to health. The town of La Feuillee had lost many of their young men to the war.

When a resplendent Claire walked down the aisle with Lamb, a very proud Jamie was waiting for her in his wheelchair.  He bore little resemblance to the man Claire had been reunited with over four months before.  It would still be some time before he could walk confidently again, but he was happier, healthier and more confident.  Their vows were simple yet heartfelt and they both glowed with happiness.  Jamie then moved his wheelchair aside to make way for his best friend and soon to be brother-in-law Ian to marry Jenny.  Ian joked that if they both forgot their wedding anniversary, they could be in trouble together. 

Rupert, who was watching on, was also more relaxed than he had been before the visit to see Dr Rivers in Edinburgh.  He had met a lass from the village in which he lived and brought her to the wedding to meet them.  He was delighted to report she was an excellent cook. His anguish over Angus had subsided, although he still missed him. 

As the gathering raised their glasses to drink a toast to the brides and grooms, it was Brian who first spoke as father to Jamie and Jenny:

“Today I welcome to my family two wonderful people who are much loved by both Ellen and me.  Ian has been a part of this family for as long as I can remember, both as a friend of Jamie’s and the chosen man of Jenny.  We were afraid we might have lost him in France, but we have before us three brilliant women who played a part in saving him – Jenny, Claire and Mary.  Ian, we wish ye and Jenny every happiness. I will ask Ellen to speak about the other person who joins the Fraser household today.”

Ellen was clearly emotional: “Over four months ago, I met Claire for the first time.  As ye all know, Jamie was in a sorry state when he was returned to us.  Jenny told us that if anyone could save Jamie, it would be Claire. When Murtagh returned from Oxford with Claire, he confirmed that. But Claire has done more than save Jamie, she has shown all of us the meaning of true love and has saved us all.  Brian and I feared we had lost another son, but instead we have had Jamie returned to us with a wife we both love so much.  We are delighted to welcome ye into our family, Claire, along with your uncle Lamb.  And we want to thank Joe for his part in bringing Jamie back to us too.”

More speeches followed, as the Murrays welcomed Jenny to their family.  Jamie didn’t feel able to give a speech as best man but did lead a toast to Ian and Jenny.  There was music, food and wine to share but Jamie’s eyes rarely left Claire.  He moved his wheelchair closer to her and beckoned her towards him, whispering in her ear: “Mrs Fraser, show you something?”  Claire smiled as he led the way in his wheelchair along the corridor, past the room he had been in for almost a year and to the very end of the corridor.

“Open the door”, he told Claire.

When Claire opened the door, she saw that the room had a large bed with a sign on it: _Welcome to your new room, Mr and Mrs Fraser._

“Ye can do indecent things to me here”, Jamie smiled.  “Start now?”

Claire looked at him with a loving smile: “You will not be sleeping much tonight, Mr Fraser.  I have plans which will shock and delight you.”

“And Crete?”, Jamie asked.

“You’ll probably be too tired to exercise tomorrow, but the day after is when we work on your walking.  The beaches of Crete await us, Jamie.”

After their guests had mostly left or settled down to sleep for the night, Claire pushed Jamie’s wheelchair into their new room.  She took her time helping Jamie undress, kissing his body and running her hands over him until he made his “Paris noises”.  Claire removed each piece of her clothing provocatively, teasing Jamie as she went.  He was sitting on the side of the bed and pulled her towards him. She was surprised at how strong his upper body had become.  He was enjoying being in charge.  He sucked her breasts, kissed her quite roughly and lifted her on to his thighs. 

“I want to make ye scream Claire.  I want to make ye shriek for more.  I want to be strong for ye.  I want to love my wife.  Ye are mine.” 

“I am yours Jamie, and you are mine.  Nothing will ever change that.  Love me until I scream and then love me some more”, she told him.

Jamie swung her on to her back and entered her as hard as he could.  His legs hurt, but he didn’t care.  Feeling Claire beneath him was more important to him than anything else.  After many months of feeling dependant on everyone else, he wanted to feel like he was able to satisfy this woman who meant everything to him.  He thrust into her until she was gasping for air, telling him how wonderful he was and screaming for more.  She was scratching his back and buttocks as he gushed into her.  He could barely move after the exertion, but he was triumphant.

Realising how exhausted he was, Claire helped him lay comfortably on the bed.  He was aching but satiated.  Claire put a pillow under his head, got some massage oil and rubbed it in to his legs: “Jamie, that was incredible. I have wanted you to do that for so long.”

She rubbed his legs until they relaxed, then lay next to him and pulled the bedspread over them both.  He fell into a deep sleep and she watched him breathe.  There were no night terrors that night.  Jamie was going to be alright, and if he was alright, so was she.

When he woke the following morning, it was to Claire bringing him a tray of breakfast: “You must be weak after making love to me last night, Jamie.  It was bliss.  Now I must keep your strength up because I can’t wait until you do that to me again”, she smiled.

“After breakfast Mrs Fraser?”, Jamie suggested.

“Yes please, Mr Fraser.  I love you.”       


	20. French letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some changes in the Fraser household involving bairns.

 

 

The dynamics of the Fraser household changed somewhat.  Ellen and Brian had gained a daughter-in-law and a son-in-law, and although both Claire and Ian had been in residence prior to the weddings there were some adjustments to be made.  Jenny, it seemed, was determined to become pregnant immediately.  She was knitting in the evenings and collecting a range of baby goods from friends whose children had grown. Brian and Ellen were looking forward to becoming grandparents and were unashamedly vociferous about it. Claire, on the other hand, was more concerned with Jamie’s recovery and not placing the household under any further pressure.  The war had been going for over three years and there was no sign of peace.

It was ironic, then, that it was Claire who was the first to experience morning sickness and tiredness.  She was noticeably absent from family breakfasts, regularly occupied the toilet when others needed to go and she fell asleep during the day, even when doing chores.  Jamie was both proud and concerned.  He wanted bairns, but he didn’t want to place any more pressure on Claire, who was still running his rehabilitation programme.   He was alarmed when he found Claire on the bedroom floor some weeks later, collapsed in a pool of blood.  Ellen ran to their aid, cleaning Claire and arranging for Brian and Murtagh to lift her into the bed once she was ready.

Jamie sat by their bed for the rest of the day, watching Claire and calling Ellen whenever she seemed unwell.  Ellen thought Jamie might grow roots.  Nothing would entice him from Claire’s side.  He ate and drank by her bedside and helped set up a stretcher bed next to her that night.

When Claire woke and saw Jamie watching her from the stretcher bed, she smiled: “Jamie, please come to bed with me.  I’d like to feel your arms around me.  I’m so sorry” she told him.

“Claire, I dinna want to do anything that might make ye worse.  The doctor will be coming tomorrow morning to check ye.  And dinna be sorry.  The worst thing would’ve been if I were to lose ye.  We can make more bairns when ye’re better, Sassenach”.  He reached over and kissed her hand.  “I’ll just lie here and watch ye. It’s a hobby of mine.”

Jenny got instructions from the doctor and nursed Claire for days.  She knew how she would feel if it were her child who had been lost and she still felt that she owed Claire something for the lie she had told.  The first time Claire stepped from the bed, she had Ellen holding one arm and Jenny the other.  Jamie was watching and, in Ellen’s terms, “having wee kittens” at the sight of Claire looking pale and wan.  It was a few weeks before Claire was feeling able to resume normal life.  Although she hadn’t planned to become a mother so soon, she was aware that her hormones were confused and that she was recuperating physically and emotionally. 

The doctor visited again, and assured Jamie that Claire would recuperate, but that the time-honoured method of contraception – withdrawal – should be used.  He saw the look on both Claire and Jamie’s faces and closed the bedroom door.

“I am going to give you these.  I am not permitted to suggest the use of these condoms for the purposes of birth control.  The epidemic of syphilis and gonorrhoea has wreaked havoc on the British army, and these are being used by the military to prevent the spread of those sexually transmitted diseases.  The British army recently started distributing these. Used correctly, they can prevent another pregnancy. Jamie, could you fetch a carrot from the kitchen please?”, the doctor asked.

Jamie looked puzzled but went to the kitchen in his wheelchair, returning with a carrot.  The doctor used the carrot to demonstrate the use of the condom.  Jamie looked horrified.  Claire giggled at the look on his face.

The doctor told them there were 40 condoms in the packets he was giving them, which should be used every time they had intercourse.  He emphasised that they shouldn’t tell others he had provided them.  They were a means to protect Claire from another pregnancy too soon after her miscarriage.

Claire placed the condoms in a box and stored them in a chest of drawers.  Jamie was still looking sceptical.  He was _not_ looking forward to wearing “the wee coat on mah cock”.  Claire assured him that she’d make sure “your cock is as firm and orange as that carrot before I put your wee coat on”. She tried not to laugh but failed.  Jamie conceded that it was probably better than withdrawal.

A few months later, it was Jenny who was avoiding breakfast.  She was elated.  After the first few months of sickness, she thrived and grew exponentially.  Ian quietly told Claire that he didn’t think Jenny would give birth normally as she was likely to explode before the due date.  Claire suggested he keep that thought to himself.  Jamie agreed.  Jenny was particularly emotional during her pregnancy.

Claire was on hand and prepared when Jenny went into labour: checking the dilation of her cervix, helping her breathing rhythm, checking that the baby was moving down and in the correct position.  By the time the doctor arrived, Claire had delivered the little boy and cut the umbilical cord, and he was left to check the afterbirth.  The Fraser and Murray households were in celebratory mode.  Jenny was exhausted yet elated.  Claire helped her to arrange pillows for a comfortable feeding position and checked the bairn’s nappy before placing him in the crib.

When they went to bed that night, Jamie held Claire close: “Do ye still want me to wear the wee coat, Sassenach?  Or would ye like me to spread my seed to grow a bairn?” he asked as he held her close.

“If we had a child, would you like a boy or a girl, Jamie?” she asked.

“A girl”, Jamie answered immediately.

“You seem very definite”, Claire observed.

“I couldna bear to see my son go off to war, Claire.  I’ve seen things no man should see and done things no man should have to do.  I dinna want that for a child of ours.  It’s difficult enough to think of a lass going through the pain of birth, but that at least can produce new life”.  He was deep in thought as he spoke.  “And I want a bairn that looks as beautiful as ye, Claire.”

“You’d spend her teenage years fighting off the local lads, Jamie”, she laughed.

“Aye.  Another reason to get on my feet as soon as possible”, he smiled. “If she looks anything like ye, it could mean another war.”

“I sometimes wonder if this bloody war will ever end, Jamie.  So many dead, so many injured, so many damaged.  I’m lucky I can still hold you close and love you”, she mused.

“Ye’d best get a wee coat ready then, Sassenach.”

 ---------- 0 ----------

_"Immorality in Boulogne is as prevalent as death in the line," recorded Brig Gen Frank Percy Crozier, who arrived on the Western Front in 1915._

_''Rouen has been ruinous to my purse (not to mention my morals)," confided James H. Butlin, a lieutenant who, in 1914, swapped his place at Oxford University for one in the trenches.  "But I have enjoyed myself," he confessed._

_Brothels displayed blue lamps if they were for officers and red lamps for other ranks. Outside red lamp establishments, queues or crowds of men were often seen. Cpl Jack Wood compared the scene he witnessed to "a crowd, waiting for a cup tie at a football final in Blighty"._

_Others saw brothel visits as a physical necessity - it was an era when sexual abstinence for men was considered harmful to their health._

_Lt R. G. Dixon explained in his memoir: "We were not monks, but fighting soldiers and extraordinarily fit, fitter than we had been in our young lives, and fairly tough - certainly with an abundance of physical energy. If bought love is no substitute for the real thing, it at any rate seemed better than nothing. And in any case it worked off steam!"_

 From _WW1 brothels: Why troops ignored calls to resist 'temptation'_ by Dr Clare Makeeace, Cultural historian on warfare.


	21. Life without war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Armistice, Crete and other joys. There will be one more chapter of this tale, which I hope to have written by the end of the week.

Over the following months, Jamie’s speech and mobility improved steadily.  He worked on the barre that Murtagh had erected to help him walk with support, and gradually moved from the wheelchair to two walking sticks.  At first it was only ten steps, but then it progressed to twenty.  Then from two sticks to one.  With one stick he could move around most of the ground floor of the house with ease, but the steps upstairs remained too difficult and dangerous.

Brian and Murtagh began to design chores which Jamie could complete with their help.  He worked with Ian in the stables and babysat Jenny’s new bairn, who had been named ‘wee Jamie’. 

Claire began to take a back seat.  In some ways she missed having Jamie in every part of her day.  Ellen observed her looking out of the lounge room window, watching Jamie laughing with Ian and his godfather as they sharpened tools: “Everything Jamie can do now is down to ye, Claire.  If not for ye, he would still be sitting in that wing chair watching life pass him by.”

Claire smiled back at her: “Well, maybe not that bad, Ellen.”

“Yes, he would be.  It wasna just what ye did with him, it was the hope ye gave him and the motivation to carry on.  He loves ye with all his heart, Claire, and he’s happy because of ye.”

“There’s just one more promise I need to keep, Ellen.  The trip to Crete”, Claire smiled.

“Aye, Murtagh told Brian and I about the significance of Crete.  ‘Twould be a grand trip but with this war dragging on who knows when it might happen”, Ellen acknowledged.

Claire knew that Lamb had some concerns about excavations which were incomplete in Crete.  Some of the Anzacs who had miraculously survived Gallipoli had relied on the courage and kindness of the people of Crete in order to survive. Many Australian and New Zealand soldiers had remained on Crete for months before being spirited off isolated beaches in the dead of night, in daring evacuation operations.  Lamb was concerned that old friends on Crete, and the island of Crete itself, could be treated harshly by the enemy if they found out.  He was eager to get there and see what damage may have occurred.

It was a wireless operator at Enniskillen barracks in Ireland who was to make a little piece of history on 11 November 1918.   Shortly after 06:00 GMT he picked up a faint morse code signal transmitted from the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The message was signed by Marshal Foch, the French commander of the Allied forces.  The translation of the message read: "Hostilities will cease along the whole front from 11 November at 11 o'clock, French time. Until a new order, allied troops will not pass the line reached on that date at that hour. Hold exactly this line. All communication with the enemy is forbidden until receipt of instructions sent by the commanders of the armies."

The news was to spark wild celebrations throughout the town.  It was hours before the news hit the streets of London and the rest of Europe.

It was Jenny who brought the news to Lallybroch when she collected the post.  Mixed with the excitement was a feeling of plain relief that no more families would have to suffer the loss of loved ones.  The bottle of whisky which had been reserved for this day was opened and a toast drunk to all those who had died and suffered.  The bottle had been sitting on the kitchen dresser for over four years. Later that day, Rupert arrived with his sweetheart Elspeth to announce that they were to be wed as soon as possible.  Claire reminded him of the role he had played in the handfasting between her and Jamie at La Feuillee: “Aye, was a rare happy day in that bloody war.”  He, Jamie and Ian drank a special toast to Angus, lying in the ground at Ypres.

There was a period of adjustment.  The war had lasted over four years and they had spent so much time in that mindset that it took a while to take in what had happened.  Slowly, men and women returned from their military stations to take up their places in their communities.  Some adjusted well, but others found the return to civilian life difficult.  They were carrying injuries and memories which would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

When a letter arrived from Lamb, Claire was eager to see the contents.  Lamb had arranged funds to take Claire, Jamie and himself to Crete in March 1919 – an ideal time as it would be Spring.  Claire and Jamie just needed to get themselves to London with their (minimal) luggage.  Claire was skipping around the house when Jamie returned from the stables to the news.

“Ye know what this means, Sassenach?”, he said with the broadest smile.

“The beach at Chania.  You and me”, she squealed.

“And _no_ wee coats”, Jamie stated categorically.

They embraced.  “I canna wait to have ye on the beach, sand stuck to yer back and in yer hair.  We’ll have sex like the gods.  This will be the honeymoon we never had”, he whispered in her ear.

Three months later, they arrived in Crete.  It was Jamie’s first experience of an archaeological expedition, but Lamb and Claire soon had him operating like a professional.  Lamb insisted they visit Knossos to check on the condition of the Palace there, which he had been working on before the Great War began.  The damage was minimal.  Jamie was delighted to find that it was also near a beach.

Their time in Crete felt like the start of their new life – the one in which there was no war and the opportunity for Jamie to feel recovered.  They were realistic enough to know that they would never completely escape the impact of the war on their lives, but they were also thankful that they had survived.  So many had not.  They spent four months in Crete, returning to Britain in June 1919.  Just before leaving Chania, they paid one last visit to the beach.  Their final sunset in Greece.  This time it was Jamie’s turn to have a back covered in sand as Claire straddled his hips and bore down on him.  Not to be outdone, Jamie made sure her breasts were smothered in sand so that he could insist on washing the sand off in the shallow waters.  They strolled along the beach, drying off in the warm breeze.

“Jamie, what names would you choose for our child?”, Claire asked.

“Well, I hope one day we’ll have a girl and I’d like to call her Faith”, Jamie mused.

“Why Faith?”, Claire asked.

“Because ye had faith in me when I couldna see any way out of my prison.  I thought I had landed on Angus and killed him in my efforts to get him out of that trench and it was only when ye wouldna give up with Rupert that we found out he was already dead.  For months on end, I had nightmares of Angus looking up at me and breathing his last breath.  Ye saved me from that Clare. Ye saved Rupert too. Ye never gave up.  I wouldna be sitting here now if it weren’t for ye and yet faith”.  It was the first time Jamie had spoken so openly of his personal hell.

“Well, Faith it is then”, she said.

“Why do ye ask now?”, Jamie asked.

“Because I’m pregnant Jamie.  I’ve missed my courses for two months. I’m sure of it.”

“I was wondering when ye were gonna tell me.  I didna want to say, but I had noticed.  The sex has been truly wonderful, Sassenach”, he laughed.

“You bloody Scot!” she squealed as she chased him.

 

Jamie ran along the beach.  Claire stopped and watched as his legs moved with so much ease and he laughed.  Thank God this man had survived, that he was happy, and he was about to become a father.  She remembered that first day at La Feuillee when he told her: “Sassenach, you found me and you can keep me for the rest of our lives.”


	22. The Centenary of the Armistice: November 11 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this tale. The inspiring work of Guy Denning, referred to in this chapter, was the original catalyst for this story. I must acknowledge ABC journalist Samantha Hawley whose article "French village brings lost soldiers back to life 100 years after World War I" was used as a major source for this chapter. I also pay tribute to the World War 1 poets, who brought to life the experiences of those who suffered unbelievable hardships, and to Weta Workshop for the Gallipoli exhibition at Te Papa in Wellington. Thanks also to the readers who wrote to me with suggestions and anecdotes. I hope this tale has brought to its readers a greater understanding of “the war to end all wars”, hopefully made more palatable by seeing it through the eyes of some of our favourite fictional characters. (I started 'Fort Augustus' before finishing this so I wouldn't miss them so much!)

 

Claire and Jamie begat a number of children: Faith Louise, William Murtagh, Alexander Brian Lambert, Ellen Mary and Janet Josephine.

The order of the names was important.  Louise, who had worked with Claire at La Feuillee, had died in an accident in France just prior to Faith’s birth.  It was ironic that she and her husband had survived the war but died at the hands of a driver who hit them as they crossed the road in Paris. 

William was named after Jamie’s late brother and Murtagh was chosen as he had been sick for a while and was nursed by Claire and Jenny until his heart failed him.  Claire always had a special affection for Murtagh given his long journey to Oxford to bring her news of Jamie in person.

Brian and Lamb had died in the year prior to Alex’s birth – they couldn’t bear to choose which of them Alex should be named after, so they named him in alphabetical order.  Ellen died a year after Brian, Jenny said from a broken heart. 

And finally, Joe died from diptheria, almost certainly caught from a patient with the condition.  All their children carried a part of people who had been so important in their lives, which made them all the more special.

Claire wrote a family history of their time in World War 1 and today their descendants, Julia Ellen Claire and Jamie Brian Murtagh, were in the village square at La Feuillee.  Julia was the great granddaughter of Faith and Jamie the great grandson of William – both of them the great, great grandchildren of Jamie and Claire.

Alongside them was Ian Rupert Murray, the great, great grandchild of Jenny and Ian Murray.

They were standing by a small war memorial — a statue of a soldier —in the main square of La Feuillee.  There were 112 names on the memorial.  Fathers, husbands, uncles and sons who never came home from World War 1. It was 10 per cent of the tiny village's population at the time.

Since the end of The Great War the population had continued to fall.

Only about 400 people lived in La Feuillee in 2018.  British artist Guy Denning had called it home for just over a decade.

With a bucket full of glue and a paint brush he had pasted life-size drawings of the soldiers who never came home around the square.  In all, 112 charcoal images on brown wrapping paper were cut out and stuck up one-by-one, feet touching the ground. Mr Denning's knuckles had bled as he accidentally scraped them against the rough surface.

"It's to present to people my age and younger and to say this is what it would have looked like in this village if all of those people had come back", Mr Denning told them.

One by one, the soldiers returned in the form of charcoal images. On this wall, then that one, and before long the square was full.  It took Guy Denning a year to draw the 112 soldiers and local villagers helped him to secure them to the walls.

With few photographs from the area at that time there are no exact portraits, but each drawing was powerful in its own way.

Patricia, whose family has lived in the village for generations, sang an old French war song _I Have a Friend, I Have a Brother_ , as she worked to help unveil the final image.

The three Scots told Guy Denning about their great great grandparents, including Jamie and Claire’s handfasting and the evacuation of Ian minus a part of his leg. 

"They said it was the war to end all wars and it's important for the memory of the people in this village and Scotland to know war hasn't ended, more people have died,” Guy told them.

“Aye, William Fraser, the son of the couple who were handfast here, died in the Second World War”, Jamie told Guy.  “’Tis said that his father never fully recovered from the loss of his son, despite having four other children and a tribe of grandchildren.  William didna meet his own son, who was conceived before he went to war, but from all accounts his grandfather was an important influence in the boy’s life”, Jamie the younger told Denning.

Julia watched as Patricia pasted the last charcoal image to a wall: "It's like they are standing there and watching us," she said.

Patricia smiled: “They will slowly fade away as time goes by.  But for a while, we will remember them”, she told her in broken English.

“Aye.  Lest we forget”, Julia muttered. 

 

_God of our fathers, known of old,_

_Lord of our far-flung battle-line,_

_Beneath whose awful Hand we hold_

_Dominion over palm and pine—_

_Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,_

_Lest we forget—lest we forget!_

_The tumult and the shouting dies;_

_The Captains and the Kings depart:_

_Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,_

_An humble and a contrite heart._

_Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,_

_Lest we forget—lest we forget!_

_Far-called, our navies melt away;_

_On dune and headland sinks the fire:_

_Lo, all our pomp of yesterday_

_Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!_

_Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,_

_Lest we forget—lest we forget!_

_If, drunk with sight of power, we loose_

_Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,_

_Such boastings as the Gentiles use,_

_Or lesser breeds without the Law—_

_Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,_

_Lest we forget—lest we forget!_

_For heathen heart that puts her trust_

_In reeking tube and iron shard,_

_All valiant dust that builds on dust,_

_And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,_

_For frantic boast and foolish word—_

_Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!_

**_Recessional by Rudyard Kipling_ **

 


End file.
